Sansen Sekai
by lily22
Summary: They say that death is final, but no Strawhat would accept that without a fight. Now Zoro and Robin must struggle through a bewildering maze of alternate universes in order to find their memories, their selves—and each other. [lots of AUs, mostly gen]
1. Nami

**Title: **Sansen Sekai (Three Thousand Worlds)  
**Summary: **They say that death is final, but no Strawhat would accept that without a fight. Now Zoro and Robin must struggle through a bewildering maze of alternate universes in order to survive with their memories, their selves—and each other—intact.  
**Spoilers: **The real/living-world portion takes place before Water 7, but spoilers for Robin's past.  
**Warning: **I may have been on crack when I wrote this. This is basically a series of bizarre what-if AUs. Proceed with caution.

* * *

"Usopp, how many lights do we have left?"

Usopp drew himself upright and squared his shoulders, which made no difference since Nami couldn't see him in the dark. "The great Usopp-sama does not use his Sure-Kill Flame Stars to light candles," he proclaimed, raising his head proudly.

"As far as I know, the great Usopp-sama can't see in the dark either," Nami said, sounding scarily patient.

"C-Captain Usopp is used to dealing with difficult circumstances!"

"Just answer the question already, or I'll _show_ you difficult circumstances."

"Yes ma'am," Usopp said quickly. "I have five more Flame Stars in my bag. I also have a rubber band."

Nami nodded, considering their options. It was sheer luck that Chopper had been carrying a box of candles when the ground had collapsed beneath them, but it looked like their luck was running out—or at least the candles were. She smoothed a finger over the waxy cylinders in the dark. No matter how many times she probed at the edges of the box, she hadn't been able to find a single hidden stub of a half-spent candle. They only had eight left, and one had a bad wick. If they were careful about avoiding drafts, they could light candles with other candles, but that was only still at most sixteen hours of light before they were plunged into a darkness that already seemed very final.

"We'll conserve our resources for now," Nami decided. "Once those idiots get a hold of themselves, we'll try again."

There was no question as to which idiots she was talking about. Sanji had succumbed to weeping quietly in the corner, flicking his spent lighter repeatedly and mumbling about he had failed Nami-san. If only he had a spare lighter! If only he could kick through solid rock! If only he could cook a nutritious and filling meal out of dirt and pebbles! He was a failure as a cook, a man, _and_ as Nami's candle-lighter. Ahh, if only…

He had picked up this line of self-flagellation when Zoro dropped it earlier, in favor of sleeping. It had been a while since Nami heard the swordsman grumbling about not being able to cut everything he needed to, about his katana not being sharp enough. Instead, the cavern was filled with the oddly soothing sound of snoring.

The lazy bum could sleep anywhere, Nami grumbled to herself, and navigated by feel over to the far side of the cave, where Robin had promised to occupy Luffy. Their captain was the biggest idiot of all. He had so much energy it was ridiculous. When he wasn't running back and forth in the limited confines of the cave, he was banging his head against the wall, screaming something about "gomu gomu no woodpecker!"

In that regard, Robin worked miracles. Nami now gazed in her general direction as one might gaze at a descending angel. Luffy was, well, being quiet!

"How is he doing?" Nami whispered, coming to a stop. There was the vague impression of someone in front of her, though she could see nothing.

"Captain-san is fine," Robin said. Nami could hear her smile even in the gloom. "We're playing a game. Doctor-san is here too."

"A game?" Nami asked.

"Yes. Doctor-san and I are tying Luffy's fingers and toes together. He's trying to get them apart. It's a race, I guess. Would you like to join?" Robin's hand found Nami's, and pressed into it something warm and pliant. It had the feel of rubber stretched beyond its limits. Nami let go at once, and heard it snap a foot or two away.

"Ow!" said Luffy, the first word he'd spoken in hours. Nami supposed that a miracle was still a miracle, even if she really wished she hadn't asked how it was done.

She crawled back, murmuring something encouraging and appreciative.

There was another snap, and then the sound of Chopper giggling.

"Hey, that's cheating!" Luffy said.

Nami didn't want to know.

* * *

"There's a sign! Guys, there's a sign! Stop!"

Sanji skidded to a halt. "YES, Nami-swaaaan! Whatever you say!" He was eager to make up for his lighter failure.

"Usopp, bring the candle closer. I can't read it."

"What's this creepy underground lake?" Usopp wondered as he did so. "I have a bad feeling about this."

Robin knelt by the sign, curiosity piqued. Luffy followed her, grumbling something incoherent. In the candlelight, Nami could see that his fingers had been stretched over his mouth and tied behind the back of his head. She thought about untying him, but he didn't seem to be in too much pain.

"What's it say, Robin?" Chopper asked eagerly, running up behind Luffy. Zoro brought up the rear, one hand on the hilts of his swords, the other rubbing tiredly at his eyes. He had clearly just woken up.

"This lake is death," Robin said, in that quiet way of hers.

Usopp dropped the candle, which plunged wick-first into the lake. The cave was dark and silent as the whole crew took this in.

Then:

"USOPP, WHAT'RE YOU DOING, THAT CANDLE WAS PRACTICALLY FRESH!"

"HOW DARE YOU UPSET NAMI-SAN! I'LL BREAK YOUR LONG NOSE, YOU LONG NOSE!"

"DON'T BLAME ME, SHE SAID IT WAS D-D-DEATH!"

"IS IT REALLY DEATH, ROBIN? ARE WE GOING TO DIE?"

"SHUT UP!" Nami yelled. She took a deep breath, preparing to yell again, but it wasn't needed as the others quieted. "Usopp, another Flame Star. Hit me and die. Actually, Sanji-kun," her voice dripped honey, "why don't you hold the candle for him?"

"Of course, Nami-saan!" Nami felt for Sanji's hand, and pressed their last candle into it.

"Got it. Usopp, I'm holding the candle to the right of my head. Hit Nami-swan and die."

"Uh…" Usopp swallowed loudly. "Robin, are you doing that?"

"Doing what?" Robin asked.

"Someone?" Usopp's voice cracked. "Is someone touching me, or does that cold, slimy tentacle curled around my ankle belong to a scary lake-monster that's about to eat me alive?"

"There are scary lake-monsters?" Chopper screamed.

"Hurry up and light the candle already!"

Usopp let out a cry as a plume of flame shot forth from his slingshot. It momentarily illuminating his pale, horrified face and the way his eyes were squeezed shut against what nightmares might await him should he open them. In the next moment, Sanji flew forward, lit candle held aloft, to aim a swift kick to the tentacle extending from the lake. Three hands reached out of the ground to grab Usopp as he was nearly flung in after it, and the tentacle finally released its hold on his ankle and sank back into the water's depths with a slurp.

"What the hell was that?" Zoro asked, swords out.

"Nami-san, Robin-chan, did you see that?" Sanji chanted happily, dancing circles around the two girls.

"The Guardian of Death," Robin read. She was kneeling by the sign again, ignoring Usopp's kneecaps, which were trembling bare inches from her face. "The Keeper of the Way. The Grim Reaper, if you will."

"No way!" said Chopper. "The Grim Reaper is an octopus?"

"Whatever it is, I'll cut it up," Zoro announced. "No way it's going to get away with attacking us from underneath, in the dark."

"I don't think it meant us any harm," Robin said, to a chorus of incredulity. "It merely thought Usopp was the toll."

"T-t-toll?" Usopp stammered, teeth chattering.

Chopper looked up at him in horror before thinking to wonder, "What's a toll?"

"Some must pass into the Lake of Death for many to escape the Cavern of Despair," Robin read.

"Well that stupid octopus had better get up here so I can put my Foot of Death into his Face of Shittiness. Then we'll see about Despair," Sanji added, lighting a cigarette on the candle he held and blowing a ring of smoke.

"This is a serious matter, Cook-san," Robin murmured. "According to the sign, there is no way out of here unless one of us dies."

"What?" Usopp dropped his slingshot, which Chopper hurriedly caught for him.

"Good thing that wasn't the candle," Nami muttered.

"No way."

Everyone turned to look at Luffy. He had managed to get his hands out of his mouth, but most of his fingers were still tied behind his back.

"Captain-san?" Robin asked.

"There is no way I'm losing any of my nakama. No one's going to die."

There was a rippling on the surface of the lake. A low groan emanated from the water; its echoes filled the cave, humming and buzzing in their bones.

"No!" Luffy snapped, shooting an authoritative glare around his stretched-out fingers and slightly flattened face.

The answering groan was petulant this time.

"No means no!"

"Look," said Robin, pointing up. "Look at the smoke."

All eyes followed the smoke from Sanji's cigarette. It trailed into the air, followed invisible currents over the lake, and then… stopped.

"Where did it go?"

"There!" Usopp turned, and pointed at the wall directly behind them. A distinctive row of smoke rings emerged from the wall, rose up, and dissipated about the ceiling.

"Whoa, that's so cool!" Luffy exclaimed. He ran for the wall in question, fingers still tied behind his head, and disappeared from view. His voice echoed over from the other side of the cave. "That's awesome! Guuuuuuys! Can you see me?" From across the lake, Luffy gave them his best attempt at a wave, which involved shaking his entire upper body back and forth.

"How did you do that?" Chopper gasped. He looked a little scared and a little like he wanted to try it too.

"Dunno, but it's awesome!" Luffy turned around and ran back the other way. A second later, he walked back out of the wall on their side of the lake, and collapsed down into a happy little pile. "Phew! What a great cave! I want one!"

"As the sign says," said Robin. "The cave is limitless. If you walk to one end, you merely appear again at the other."

"I see," said Luffy, who didn't. "A mystery cave."

"Then… how do we get out?" Nami asked.

Robin didn't answer, though her eyes flickered over to the lake. "Death wouldn't be so bad," she said, which Nami knew was her version of an offer.

There was a loud snap as two of Luffy's fingers came untied. He marched over to Robin stretching his neck to put his face right in front of hers. "What do you think you're saying! I'm the captain, and I already said no!"

The tentacle swept Robin off her feet. Rather than plunging back into the lake, it held her suspended over it like some sort of demented marionette.

"Robin can't swim!" Chopper squeaked, running over to the lake in preparation for rescue. Then: "I forgot! I can't swim either!"

"PUT DOWN ROBIN-CHAN!"

"Don't come! Cook-san, stop! The lake isn't water! It doesn't matter if you've eaten a Devil's Fruit or not, you can't save me. Stop! Someone stop him!"

"But Robin," Nami hesitated. "We can't just let you…"

"Stop Cook-san! Get out of here." The thing pulled Robin down to the surface of the lake. "As soon as you touch the lake, you'll die! It's too late for me. Get out of here! _DON'T YOU DARE COME FOR ME._"

The last was a scream. They had never heard her scream before. Even Sanji hesitated. "Robin-chan," he whispered. And then she was gone.

The surface of the not-water was unnaturally still.

"Robin…" Luffy breathed, disbelieving.

"That shitty squid!" Sanji yelled, running for the lake, steps punctuated by his furious raving. "Taking advantage while I was distracted! I'll kick it until it's flat! I'll kick it until it's see-through! I'm coming, Robin-chan—"

Sanji collapsed. Nami folded up her Clima Tact and looked down at Sanji to make sure he was unconscious. When she looked up, her eyes were suspiciously bright, but her voice was steady. "We have to come up with a plan," she announced. "It's not going to help anyone if we just rush in and get ourselves killed."

"ROBIIIIINN!" Luffy yelled. His voice came from very far away. This was because he had attached his feet to the signpost and stretched his legs as far as they would go. He looked like he was ready to catapult himself into the lake, despite the fact that his hands were still tied over his head.

"You idiot! What did I just say?" Nami stomped on Luffy's ankle, insofar as any part of the stretched-out leg could be identified as an ankle. Yelping, Luffy let go. There was a snap as another couple of his fingers came free.

"Th-th-that's right!" said Usopp, who was kneeling over the lake now. He and Chopper wore matching expressions of horror on their faces. "We have to… we have to think about this. Calmly. Robin… Robin said…"

"Not to go after her," Zoro finished. He didn't mind having to bring up the difficult subjects. "If she sacrificed herself so we can get out…"

"We're not leaving Robin," Luffy announced flatly.

"She might be dead already," Zoro stated, just as calmly.

"We're not leaving her!"

"Something's coming."

They all turned to look at the lake, which writhed with bubbles. A huge whirlpool was forming in the middle, and before their eyes, a woman rose into the air. She was undeniably beautiful, with her skin unblemished and her unadorned hair forming perfect cascades over her shoulders, except for the fact that her arms and legs ended in—

"Tentacles?" Chopper yelped.

"Sanji would throw a fit," Nami muttered, then added in a louder voice, "Who are you?"

"GIVE BACK ROBIN!" demanded Luffy, and drew back his arm to attack.

Zoro glanced at his captain briefly before drawing one of his swords. "We won't pay this toll." He stepped up beside Luffy, forming a picture of solidarity, as though he hadn't been arguing with him a moment before. In his mind, he hadn't.

"Your nakama is already dead," the woman said, in a voice like oozing slime, "but she was not the toll."

"What did you say?"

"The woman was an acceptable sacrifice, but the toll still must be paid."

"Talk sense, octopus!"

The octopus-woman pouted. "I don't get you people! Back in the day, people actually understood the ritual. A willing sacrifice to summon me, and an unwilling toll to pass through the gates. Nowadays people just barge in here with no idea how to go about things. Don't you get it? Two people! I need two people! Otherwise you're never getting out of here."

In the silence, everyone turned expectantly to Luffy, waiting for the inevitable furious explosion. Instead, Luffy grinned. "All right, then… I'll die!"

"LUFFY?"

The woman looked at him suspiciously. "Aren't you the captain?"

"Yup! I'm Luffy!"

She sighed. "Why do you people never read? At least your nakama managed to get the first part right. Now the captain (that's you) has to force one of his crew (that's one of you five) into the lake. Then the rest of you can go."

"So… I can't be the other sacrifice?" Luffy asked.

"The toll," she corrected testily.

"The captain can't choose himself?" Luffy pressed.

"That's right."

"Then… it'll be Zoro!" Luffy said cheerfully, and pointed at his first mate.

"Lu-Luffy," Nami stammered, horrified despite herself. Sacrificing himself was a stupid idea, but an honorable one. Singling out one of his precious nakama to die was unthinkable. "What are you doing? I thought you said you weren't going to leave any of your nakama behind?"

Luffy merely gave his blithe grin and continued to look pleased with himself.

"Luffy, how could you?" Usopp asked, stepping towards him. He took a deep breath, steeling himself. "There's no way I can accept this! The Great Usopp cannot stand by while you kill one of your nakama."

"Usopp," said Luffy, grin suddenly disappearing. "What would you do if I chose you?"

"What?" The color drained from Usopp's face. He took an involuntary step backwards. "I… I guess I'd understand. I'm not the best fighter, and I don't repair Merry very well. If it's for the crew—"

Luffy turned his head. His gaze passed right over Sanji's prone form. "Chopper. What would you do if I chose you?"

"M-me? I…" Chopper looked around, terrified.

"Luffy, stop that!" Nami stepped in.

"Nami," said Luffy. "What would you do if I chose you?"

Nami froze. He wouldn't. But… She looked over at Zoro, who was watching the goings-on with that stoic calm of his. Of course he never went against his captain; for him, it seemed natural as breathing to follow along with whatever Luffy decided, without question, without concern. But even so, he couldn't be willing to _die_ for his captain's whim. Didn't he have dreams? Nami considered her response with care. If she protested too much, would Luffy really sentence Zoro to death? Would he go that far? Could she really choose her own life over his? "I… I'd do it," Nami began hesitantly.

"Zoro!" Luffy interrupted, that blithe grin returning to his face as he turned to face Zoro. "What would you do if I chose you?"

Zoro met Luffy's gaze calmly. Zoro won't die, Nami thought breathlessly. He won't just passively accept this. Not even from Luffy.

"Zoro?" Luffy prompted.

And Zoro grinned too. "If you did that, _Captain_, I'd kick your ass. I wouldn't care what it took—I'd come back from death itself just to beat you up. And I'd bring Robin with me too, while I was at it."

Luffy and Zoro grinned at each other for a while.

"Don't be stupid," Nami shook her head. "You can't come back from death."

"Watch me," said Zoro.

"It's death!" Usopp said. "It's not like getting kidnapped, or lost. When you die, that's it! You can't come back, no matter how much you want to."

"How do you know?" Zoro asked. "You ever tried it?"

Luffy's last few fingers came undone with another snap.

"Nami and Usopp are right. Not even I can do anything if you die," Chopper whispered, awed despite himself at Luffy and Zoro's coolness.

"Anyway, you'd better hurry. See you later, Zoro!" said Luffy, and punched Zoro in the chest, hard.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be back, Luffy!" As far as shocked and betrayed curses went, it sounded rather half-hearted. "I'll never forget this!" he added, one hand on his swords, the other hand forming a fist that he shook vaguely in the air.

"Zoro, wait…" Chopper called, slightly desperately. "Don't you want us to hold your katana for you?"

"Are you kidding?" Zoro asked. "How am I supposed to fight my way back from death without my swords?"

There was a splash, and he was gone.

"Well, let's go," said Luffy cheerfully. "I'm hungry. I hope Sanji wakes up soon."

"Aren't you worried about Zoro?" Usopp asked, still staring at the spot the swordsman had occupied just a moment ago.

"Well, he'll probably hit me when he gets back, but he won't kill me," Luffy shrugged. "That'd be mu-ti-ny."

"That's not what I meant," Usopp muttered. A huge vortex had opened in front of them. There was a light in there, somewhere in the distance.

"I'm not worried at all," said Luffy, scooping Sanji up. "He'll be back. He'll bring Robin too. It's Zoro."

"Even if it's Zoro," said Usopp.

"He still has to become the world's greatest swordsman!" Luffy said. "Sanji, wake up! I want food!"

"I thought the goal was to become the greatest swordsman alive," Nami muttered. She pried Sanji's fingers off the candle that he was somehow still gripping.

"Nami-san," Sanji murmured. "I held it for you. A lovely face like yours should never be in the darkness."

"We don't need candles anymore," Luffy announced, "we just need meat! Let's go!" He bounded without a care into the dark, swirling portal, still carrying Sanji in his arms. The rest of his crew, two short, followed him, because that's what they always did.


	2. Death 0017

Robin has seen him before.

She's not sure how the campground is rented out, never having had occasion to inquire, but he always comes to the same site, the one at the very edge of the cliff that overlooks the moody ocean below. The cliff is all rock, crumbly and treacherous, yet one enormous tree somehow manages to spread its thick roots right up to the edge.

Perhaps he is a poet who appreciates the harmonious coexistence of the three elements of tree, rock, and sea. Perhaps he is a pirate, here to guard some treasure he's buried under the gnarled roots. Robin occupies herself with such idle thoughts as these while she hides in the woods. She doesn't have much else to do as she watches, waits.

He doesn't seem to have any possessions but the clothes he's wearing and the swords at his side. Somehow he doesn't seem any worse for the lack. He has no tent, no bedding, but he seems perfectly happy to sleep on the rocks or against a tree.

Robin finds that she can get close enough, when he's asleep, to look into the mouth wide with snores. She's disappointed not to see any gold fillings (she has always wondered if they hurt, or tasted funny), but she doesn't dare get any closer. She's seen him go from asleep to alert in a heartbeat when danger approaches. Some animal burst out of the woods that morning, intent on what must have seemed like easy prey. The sword flashed out of nowhere, deflecting outstretched claws with ease. While the animal looked on with bewilderment, the man yawned, barely awake. And then, maybe because the beast lurched forward, or maybe just because the man decided he was hungry, the sword pierced the creature's flesh.

Robin doesn't know what it is, the animal. Despite the wide array of books she's read, she can't identify most of the creatures on the island. Whatever the species, though, the meat smells heavenly as it crackles and sizzles over the fire. The carcass is large, even skinned, and she's nearly sure he won't be able to eat it all. She'll just wait for him to fall asleep, and then she'll eat. She's learned to be very quiet, and he hasn't noticed the food missing in the past. Her empty stomach seems to like this plan; she just hopes it won't growl and give her away.

Meanwhile, as the food cooks, he trains.

She doesn't know much about swords, but she's pretty sure most people only use one. When she first saw the man with three swords, she assumed that the extras were in case he lost or broke one. It still seems like a pretty sensible idea, which is probably why she is so surprised when, in the middle of his training, he draws a second sword.

He doesn't move like a man with two swords, though; he moves like the swords are a part of him. It's not so much graceful; that suggests dancers and acrobats. It's as much steel as it is grace, and the sunset glints the cutting edge a bloody vermilion. The swords are not beautiful, because she's seen how they can wound. He's the beautiful one, flowing the swords in their—okay, maybe it is a dance after all, a miracle of acrobatics. He's the graceful one, the shining one. Death spins around him without grazing him. She stands in awe, and she wants to be there, in that circle he has created that the blades cannot touch.

He stops, suddenly. Does he need a break? She realizes that she has stepped out of the safety of the forest-shade, and scurries back, heart thundering.

For a moment, she's ready to flee if necessary, but he's not finished with his training. He wipes sweat off his forehead—one side but not the other, why is that?—and ties a dark bandana over his hair, so that his eyes are shaded and grim and he looks a little like death after all. He places the white sword between his teeth and draws his last blade. No extras, she realizes, and then doesn't think anything at all.

By the time the swords complete their dance, the sun has set completely. He sheathes his weapons in the flickering light of the fire, unties his bandana, and walks over to inspect the meat, which has burnt a little. Even in the darkness, she can see the face he's making, but he turns the spit anyways, tears off a generous portion, and retreats to the far side of the fire to sit under the one tree.

"You can have some, you know. I don't mind."

It's the first time she's heard him speak, and for a moment, she doesn't realize that he's talking to her. She looks behind her, but there's no one else there. She backs away slowly; she doesn't think he'll give chase.

"Or you can wait until I'm asleep again," he says, taking another bite. It's hard to be intimidated by someone who has to enunciate around a mouthful of food. "It's your choice, really. I just thought it'd taste better hot."

She creeps timidly out from the forest, ready at any moment to bolt. She's been practicing with her hands; she thinks she can escape if she needs to. She thinks that she'll run as soon as he stands up, but he doesn't move, just continues to chew. Did he deliberately sit himself so far from the fire? The meat is hot under her fingers but tender between her teeth. It's lightly scorched, but she eats it all anyway. He waits until she takes another piece before speaking.

"Are you lost?" He's finished eating, so his hands are free, but he deliberately keeps them in plain view on his lap, open and relaxed. His voice is just as casual and unthreatening as his posture.

Robin shakes her head. The silence is tense; she eats quickly, just in case.

He stretches languidly, taking care to keep his motions slow and readable. He leans back against the tree, arms forming a cushion behind his head. His hair is green, and three golden earrings dangle from one ear. There is still sweat glistening on his forehead and neck, either from his workout or from the fire. She can cover his eyes, if she needs to. She thinks she can get two hands around his throat, though she might need a third; her hands are really quite small. She doesn't even consider touching his swords. Though he's placed them aside for the moment, trying to take them would be as cruel as amputating a limb, and just as difficult.

"Is there anyone looking for you?" he asks, unaware that she's already plotting how to hurt him. Then the words register, and she nearly spits out the food.

He means parents, she tells herself. Why would he ask a little girl in the woods if there was a bounty on her head? "I'm an archaeologist," she finally surprises herself by saying. "I'm continuing my mother's work."

"Oh?" he grins. It's not a friendly grin, but he doesn't seem to mean it as a threat either. It just seems to be the way he smiles, more like shark than human. "That's nice. What are you looking for?"

And though it's the exact reversal of his other question, it hurts just as much. My mother. Saul. Nakama. She can't say these things. "I'm studying the Poneglyphs," she says instead, which is arguably much worse. Somehow, her mouth won't stop. She hasn't spoken to another human being in weeks, and now that she has started, she can't seem to stop. "I want to learn the True History that is written on them. I'm looking for one now."

"Poneglyph, huh?" he gives her an assessing look, one that she doesn't understand. "Can you read those bizarre characters, then?"

"You've seen a Poneglyph?" That's impossible. Unless, Robin allows herself to hope, he's an archaeologist too?

"Sure. On the Grand Line. All sorts of crazy people were after it. They said it was the location of some ancient weapon."

"That's not it," Robin sits up straight, and her hands clench of their own accord. "It's not a weapon. It's the history, the True History. I'm going to find it, and I'm going to read it." For the Professor. For my mother. For Ohara.

He just looks at her for a moment, and she realizes that she's glaring at him like he's the one obstacle between her and the next Poneglyph. She pulls back, startled at her own vehemence, but he seems amused, maybe even impressed.

"It's good to have dreams," he muses, tilting his head back, as if checking the leaves over his head for stars. He doesn't seem to be mocking her.

"What's your dream?" she asks, in a flash of inspiration.

"My dream?" A breath. "I have two. I want to become the world's greatest swordsman. And I want to beat death."

"Beat death?" Robin parrots. She's slightly disappointed, despite herself. She's met and sometimes worked for people obsessed with immortality in the past. They all died—some thanks to a helping hand, so to speak. She hadn't taken the swordsman for the sort of megalomaniac who believed the world would be bereft without his presence.

"The only clue I have is a book," he says wistfully, unaware of her inner monologue. "I have to find a book called _Rising Dawn_. The answer should be there."

"_Rising Dawn_?" She's curious. "But why do you want to live forever?"

He shoots her a blank look. "Live forever?"

"Isn't that what you said your dream was?"

The fire crackles between them. Little sparks fly into the air as the firewood pops and groans. The sun is gone, the moon is a mere sliver, and the flames light up his face eerily. The atmosphere is ripe for ghost stories. Instead he says, "Have you ever heard of an island called Arabasta?"

"Isn't it an island on the Grand Line?"

"Yeah, it is. There was this whole deal with a princess and a secret organization. My nakama and I went there to beat up a bunch of people who were trying to take over the country. Luffy, our captain, managed to defeat the organization's leader." He smiles suddenly, and it's not the shark smile at all, just a gentle curve of the mouth so faint it's like he doesn't even know he's doing it. "Of course Luffy beat him. That guy always pulls through."

Robin doesn't know what to say. There's more to the story, that much is obvious, but she doesn't want to drag him back from wherever he's gone in his head. It looks nice there.

He comes back by himself, after a moment. "Luffy died there, in Arabasta. One of the weapons Crocodile used was poisoned. Our doctor said there had to be an antidote, but no one knew where to find one, and by the time we pulled him out of that tomb, it was already too late. We all split up after that. I guess we couldn't stand to see each other anymore. Nami went to South Blue to continue her map. I think she's also looking for Shanks, to give him back his hat. Love Cook went back to his restaurant." His eyes suddenly snap up, haunted; looking into them is like cutting herself on a thousand slivers of glass. "He doesn't believe All Blue exists anymore."

"All Blue," she sounds out, trying to make sense of at least some of what he's saying. "That's the legendary ocean where all fish exist, isn't it?"

He shakes his head, as though to focus. "Yeah. Look, there's no point telling you all this. The thing is, I'm still here. I'm still looking. Luffy…" He shakes his head again. "I just have a feeling it wasn't supposed to go like this. They keep telling me it's just grief, but I know Luffy wasn't supposed to die like that. He's the man who's going to become Pirate King. He's the kind of guy who always gets the antidote, you know? Somehow."

"So you're looking for that book? Is there any particular reason you're here?"

"I… feel like it should be nearby. I just followed my instinct wherever it took me."

She tilts her head. "So basically, you're lost."

"When I find it," he ignores her. "I'm going to go back to Arabasta. Listen," he leans forward, as if about to impart some deep secret. "Arabasta is where I saw that Poneglyph."

"The Poneglyph…"

"One thing that Luffy taught me was that you can't do everything alone. If you come with me, once I find that book, I'll take you with me back to Arabasta. You should read the Poneglyph. Crocodile thought it said the location of an ancient weapon, but then again, he couldn't even read it, and plus he was all sorts of crazy. Maybe it'll mean something different for you."

His earrings glint in the firelight when he moves his head. "When you talked about the True History just now, you looked just like Luffy. It's the look he got when he was about to do something incredible."

"Are you asking me to become your nakama?" Robin breathes. She remembers Saul, frozen forever in order to give her his last message.

"What's wrong?" he puts a hand on the hilt of the closest sword. "Think I'll slow you down?"

Robin takes her time to answer. She tears another piece of meat and eats the whole thing, chewing slowly. If he's about to chase her away, then she might as well be full while she runs. Finally, when she's swallowed the last bite, she stands. "I'd better tell you now," she says, meeting his eyes with a challenge. "My name is Nico Robin. There's a 79,000,000 Beli bounty on my head."

"A kid like you?" he stares. "You're what, eight years old?"

"I'm eleven!" she snaps, because her birthday is coming up soon, after all.

"Well," he says. He looks away, and Robin is glad, because she's starting to tremble a little, though she doesn't know why. Finally: "I can't believe we got beaten by an eleven year old." He shakes his head ruefully. "Luffy's bounty was only 30 million. Then again, Crocodile's was something like 80 million when Luffy beat him, so I can't say I'm scared."

"Your captain has a bounty? Why would he…?" Robin trails off as realization hits. "You're a _pirate?"_

When he grins, she can count every one of his teeth. "Not without Luffy, I'm not." And then, to her shock, he closes his eyes and turns his head. Within moments, he's snoring again.

* * *

"Hey, kid. Robin. Wake up. Are your parents Marines?"

Robin opens her eyes at the word parents and bolts upright at Marines. "What?"

"I mean, if Marines were looking for you, would you want to go with them?"

She looks up. A neat row of torches is proceeding through the woods, stopping at each tent to wave a piece of paper at whoever sleepily emerges. If she distracts the swordsman with her hands, she can run. There's no way down the cliffs, and the torches are coming closer and closer, but there's still enough room for a small girl to slip around the edges to safety. She doesn't realize she's shaking until the swordsman picks her up.

"I'll take that as a no," he says. "Hang on." And then he tosses her up into the tree like she weighs nothing.

Reaching out desperately, she manages to grasp a tree branch. She realizes that she's nearly sitting on it, and shifts back so that the leaves aren't in her face.

"Your foot is showing. Keep quiet," he instructs. He walks over to the campfire, which she put out after he fell asleep. She has to wonder what he would have done if she'd just walked away: the whole forest could have burned down. With a huge yawn, he scuffs absently at the ashes. The swords are at his waist once more, and he has a hand on one hilt. As the light of the torches comes near, he thumbs up the guard so that an inch of gleaming blade rises from its sheath.

Two Marines and a civilian walk into the clearing. She recognizes the last man as the owner of the campground. He looks flustered and harassed. "Excuse me, sir," he says to the swordsman, holding up a wanted poster. "Have you seen this girl? She's an extremely dangerous criminal."

"Sorry," he says. "Can't help you."

"Please keep an eye out," the owner says, and turns to the first Marine. "I'm sorry, Captain, but nobody has seen her. I'm sure those reports were just—"

"Hey," the other Marine says. "Aren't you Roronoa Zoro, Demon Bounty Hunter of East Blue?" As soon as he finishes speaking, he covers his mouth with both hands. His eyes are horrified.

"I'm Roronoa Zoro," the swordsman agrees, and Robin can feel the ground collapse from under her. She can't believe she allowed herself to believe that her new nakama would protect her. She realizes suddenly that she's falling from the tree, but she doesn't care. A bounty hunter. He must have been ecstatic when she told him about the bounty. Jackpot. Roronoa Zoro. A bounty—

"Watch out!" Roronoa catches her moments before she hits the ground. When he comes back up, three rows of marines have emerged from the woods. Three rows of guns point at the two of them. She thinks the closest ones are trembling, though that might just be her.

"It's Roronoa Zoro and Nico Robin!" a Marine proclaims. It's important to state the obvious in the Marines. Otherwise things never get done. "Stop them!"

"Well, this sucks," Roronoa mutters, to a counterpoint of rifles being cocked. He looks down at Robin briefly, pulls her up against his chest, and without further comment jumps off the cliff.

She's pretty sure this is not how bounty hunters are supposed to catch their targets. The posters do say Dead or Alive, but how are the bounty hunters supposed to get paid if they themselves die?

They land in the ocean with a sharp crack, Roronoa's back meeting the water first. He lets out a groan, arms loosening from Robin's shoulders. "Not such a great idea. You can swim, right?"

She can't answer. She's struggling to stay afloat, but no matter how hard she beats against the current, the water just sucks her under. There's a distant curse somewhere over her head, and then Roronoa scoops her up again.

"This is nostalgic," he says, as she coughs up water. "At least you don't have some important hat I need to keep track of."

"Actually, I kind of like hats," she mumbles between coughing. "I don't know if we can get one at the next town."

Roronoa pulls something off his arm suddenly. It's a small, purple-brown octopus. It waves a tentacle at them, and with an expression of absolute disgust, he winds up and throws it out to sea.

"What did you do that for?" she asks, coughs.

"No clue," he says. "I just hated it for a moment."

"I don't get it," Robin says. "I kind of hated it too."

He shakes his head and pulls her further out of the water, checks that his swords are still secure. "Good thing you're both so light, anyway, or I'd never be able to carry you." So saying, he begins to awkwardly swim across to the shore. He stops to let her climb weakly onto his back, then starts up again.

So he's not turning her in after all. She sags against one large shoulder, a source of warmth even through his wet shirt. From where she stands (or dangles, really) it certainly looks like he's beaten death. How many people fall from a hundred-foot cliff and then get upset over small cephalopods? Not many, she thinks drowsily. Not many.

* * *

Their second campfire is far enough, Roronoa estimates, that they won't be found before sunrise. He peels off his sodden shirt, and Robin stares at the jagged scar that bites across his torso. When he takes off his boots, she can see more scars, one winding around each ankle, like some sort of gory jewelry. He stops there for modesty's sake, and plunks down in his sodden pants; Robin can only imagine how horribly scarred the man's legs must be.

"So, what kind of Devil Fruit power do you have?" he asks conversationally. He dangles his wet shirt uncertainly in front of a fire and waves it a few times, like a bullfighter. Robin hopes he doesn't expect the shirt to dry just like that, though from his irritated expression, that seems to be exactly what he expects.

"I can make my hands grow on any surface." Hands sprout out of Roronoa's and take his shirt, passing it down to more hands waiting on the ground. Robin carefully lays the shirt out in front of the fire, and smoothes out a wrinkle.

"They're so small," he says, and she's suddenly aware how tiny she is compared to him. "That's a whole lot more useful than being made of rubber," he adds quickly. "Thanks. Is it just hands, or can you do any part?"

"I don't know," she says, still confused about the rubber comment. "I've never really experimented with it before. People always called me a freak."

"Our doctor was a freak too, in his village. He was just waiting for the right nakama." Roronoa lies down, and Robin can't believe he's about to go to sleep, since she definitely couldn't if she tried. Her heart is still pounding too hard; if it's trying to get out of her rib cage, she's pretty sure it's almost there.

She sits staring at the fire, waiting, but he doesn't move. She listens to the sound of his snoring for a long time before the fire burns down to ashes and her eyelids finally lower.

* * *

"Do you think that old man was telling the truth?"

"Who knows?" Roronoa does another push-up.

"How can a book be in a tree?"

"No idea."

"We'll have to go back to the campground then," Robin murmurs.

"Guess so."

"The Marines might still be there."

"Not like we have a choice."

"Do you think we're close?"

Roronoa sits back suddenly, gives her a long, serious look. "I have a feeling," he says slowly. "I feel like we're near the end."

"I feel it too," she says, pulling her knees to her chest and tucking her chin down. "But I don't think I want to know how this ends," she whispers as an afterthought.

"Happily ever after," Roronoa offers. "Isn't that how it usually goes?"

* * *

It ends with a trap. She tries to get his swords back to him, but there are too many Marines in the way. They step on her hands, and the swords fall with a clatter. He doesn't fall with any sound at all.

She hides behind the tree Roronoa cut down. The book is there at its center, and she pulls it out, clutching it to her chest, his precious white sword still clasped in one bruised hand. She's holding a dead man's dreams in her arms, she realizes, and wonders if she shouldn't go search for this Luffy, if she doesn't owe Roronoa at least that much.

The title of the book is picked out in gold letters: _Rising Dawn_; at least that much was accurate. When she opens the book, though, the stiff binding cracks as though brand new. She rifles through blank page after blank page until she can't bear to look anymore. The Marines are encircling the tree stump, and she backs up until rocks crumble under her feet. Even without looking, she can feel them falling a great distance before they meet the ocean below. She wonders what happens to dreams when the dreamer dies, but there is no response, no answer, as she takes one more step back. Gunfire sounds overhead, but if she's hit, she doesn't notice. This time there is no one to catch her at the bottom.


	3. Chopper

Miraculously, everything was exactly where they'd left it. Nestled within the sandy cove, Merry had been sheltered from the elements by sheer cliff and swaying palm trees. The tide had carried off a few of the crates they'd left too close to shore, and the local wildlife had taken some interest in Sanji's supplies, which had long since spoilt. All in all, though, there was surprisingly little damage.

The world was dim when the vortex deposited the five of them on the beach—either early dawn or late dusk. The sun was a glowing ember on the horizon, and the cool breeze felt heavenly on their skin after ages of stale cavern air.

"All right!" Luffy crowed. "Time to eat!" He looked down at the unconscious form in his arms. "Sanji! I want meat!"

Sanji was still unconscious! Chopper automatically turned, but hesitated. After their fun cave adventures, he found himself a little frightened of Luffy, though he couldn't have said why.

"Chopper?" said Luffy.

Chopper nearly fell over; he hadn't thought that anything could catch Luffy's attention once he was thinking about food. Actually, having Luffy's attention while he was hungry wasn't such a good thing. He wasn't picturing roast venison again, was he?

"Weren't you worried about Sanji, Chopper?" Luffy held out their cook's limp form like a meal to be served. Nami turned and stared. Usopp was already threading between the boxes littering the beach, making his way over in case Chopper needed rescue.

"I… How did…" Chopper stammered. He hadn't said anything about being worried, had he? And how was he supposed to explain? _I do want to make sure he's all right, but I'm afraid to get close to you. Would you mind putting him down and backing away a few hundred paces? Thanks so much._

"It's obvious," Luffy said, startling Chopper into an undignified stumble. There was a moment when Luffy held Chopper in a perceptive, all-knowing gaze. Then he grinned. "Because you're our doctor, of course!"

The compliment caught Chopper off-guard. "D-Don't say things like that, they don't make me happy!"

"Well anyway, Sanji's getting heavy." Luffy turned on his heel. From behind, he looked ridiculous; Sanji was much taller than Luffy. The way he was carried, his legs dangled to the ground. Chopper wondered if Luffy had been dragging the poor cook the whole way. "I'll bring him back to the Merry. After you're done with him, could you tell him to make me some food?"

Without waiting for a response, Luffy began to walk, singing softly to himself as he went. Chopper's ears were very sensitive, but even so, the only word he could catch of the entire song was "meat". That couldn't have been right.

But this wasn't the time. Chopper politely urged the seagulls off the nearest crate, and lifted the lid. It was filled with rolled-up parchment, each wrapped for protection against the sun and sea.

"Chopper, is everything all right?" Usopp asked as he neared.

"I'm fine!" Chopper looked up guiltily. Over Usopp's shoulder, he could see Nami also looking through crates. "If Nami's looking for her maps, tell her they're in this one."

"Got it." Usopp gave Chopper one last worried look, which Chopper warded off with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He continued trying boxes until he finally found his medical supplies. Relieved that they hadn't been lost or damaged as far as he could tell, he put the lid back on and carried it aboard the ship.

Sanji was lying in the infirmary, but he was already awake and starting to sit up. He blinked at Chopper, as though unsure of what he was seeing. Then, without warning, he exploded. Into hearts.

"NAMI-SWAAAN! Nami-swan is so wonderful when she's forceful!" He leapt out of bed, gave a happy twirl, and skipped towards the door. "Nami-swan can hit me whenever she likes!"

"H-Hold on a moment!" Chopper demanded. Getting between Sanji and the door while he had those hearts in his eyes was probably a suicidal idea, but Chopper did it anyway. Ah, the sacrifices doctors made for their patients.

"Chopper?" Sanji asked, seeming to fall down from whatever ecstasy-filled heaven he'd previous inhabited. "What's the matter?"

"You just got knocked out. I have to make sure you're all right." Chopper firmly directed Sanji back to the bed. "Also, L-L-Lu…" He took a deep, steadying breath. "Also, we're all pretty hungry after that cave, so maybe you could make us some food?"

He busied his hands with thermometers and things even though he was pretty sure being knocked unconscious didn't give one a fever. At least his hands weren't trembling; steady hands were the pride of a doctor.

"Chopper." The bed creaked as Sanji sat down. Chopper pictured him leaning his elbows on his knees, and hoped he wasn't lighting up a cigarette. Oh wait, his lighter had broken. "Chopper," Sanji asked, "what happened?"

* * *

Dinner was delicious as always, even served several hours past sunset. Chopper found that his throat was too tight for him to force down food.

Luffy did not appear to have this problem. He was even louder than usual, though perhaps that was because the rest of the crew was uncharacteristically silent. They had been moving crates all night after all, but the Strawhats tended to get only more boisterous when they were tired.

For some reason, Chopper had found himself sitting next to Luffy at the table. He moved his fork uneasily over his plate, making the requisite eating sounds without the actual eating.

"This is delicious, Sanji!" Luffy proclaimed, food flying everywhere, and Sanji looked at him for just a fraction of a second too long before smiling and inclining his head.

"I miss—" Nami began, then shut her mouth suddenly, darting cautious looks around the room to see who had heard. Chopper and Usopp both looked at her horrified. They knew she had been about to say the unthinkable. In fact, everyone in the room knew it, everyone except maybe—

"I miss Zoro and Robin!" Luffy pouted at the occupants of the table, as if they might produce the missing crewmembers if thoroughly convinced.

All that happened was that Chopper fell out of his chair. A rubber hand latched onto his shoulder before he could hit the ground. "Be careful, Chopper," Luffy admonished, pulling the reindeer back up.

Chopper was trembling. He didn't want to, but he was shaking anyway. All he knew was that if Luffy didn't let go of his shoulder soon, something very bad was going to happen, and he didn't want to be responsible for it.

"Chopper," Luffy's voice lowered, uncharacteristically serious as he finished chewing the food in his mouth. This was already a bad sign; at mealtimes, Luffy never let his mouth go empty. "Chopper, are you afraid of me?"

Chopper wasn't going to say anything. He was just going to shake his head and pretend to eat, which was the next best thing to the smiling denials that he couldn't seem to conjure up. He started to shake his head, but the motion turned into a full-body shrug, which turned into a desperate cry of, "Get your hand off of me!"

The kitchen had been quiet before. Now the hush ripped through it like a vacuum. Chopper felt like if he opened his mouth, the words would just fly out of him.

Luffy obliged by taking his hand off Chopper's shoulder. The snap of his arm returning to normal was obscenely loud in the silence. "Chopper—" he began, and Chopper knew it was too late to stop himself.

"Don't even talk to me!" Chopper screamed. "You killed Zoro! You said that you wouldn't leave any of your nakama behind, and then you let him die!" He forgot that the chair was in the way; the only thing he was concerned with was getting to the kitchen door as fast as possible. There was a crash as the chair fell over. He stumbled over it but managed to stay on his feet, and then he was through the door and to freedom.

Behind him he could only hear more stunned silence and then, faintly, "Chopper? Chopper!" There was another crash. Luffy was chasing after him? Chopper's mind was filled with thoughts of escape. The reindeer wanted to flee into the woods. The human wanted to climb as high as he could and curl up inside of something. The human voice won, even though it was the less rational decision in this case. Chopper scurried up to the crow's nest, found himself boxed in, and tucked himself up tightly, hoping that Luffy hadn't seen him.

"Chopper!" The voice was persistent. He wondered why Sanji and the others didn't protect him. Were they on Luffy's side too? But he had shared a brief conversation with Usopp while they were outside moving boxes in the dark, and he knew Usopp was just as shocked as he was by what had happened.

"Chopper!" A hand attached itself to the crow's nest. So much for not being found. For a moment he considered kicking it off, but then Luffy was springing into the air, holding the straw hat firmly to his head. The captain landed lightly on the rim of the crow's nest and perched there, froglike, on all fours. Dimly, Chopper appreciated that Luffy was trying to give him as much space as possible, but then again Luffy could have much more easily done that by staying firmly on the deck below.

He waited for Luffy to say something like, "Found you!" and split into a wide grin. He'd never seen Luffy really angry, but he even half expected to see that rare fury now. Instead, Luffy just hung on, expression serious. Chopper couldn't say later how long Luffy just sat there, looking at him. Chopper tried to glare back furiously at first, to show how much he didn't support his captain's decision. Oddly enough, it was the crescent scar below the eye that forced him to look away. There was a sliver of moon the same shape behind Luffy's head, and Chopper focused on that instead while he tried not to sniffle too obviously.

Luffy waited until Chopper's anger had drained completely before speaking. "After Robin fell in, I decided that there was no way I would leave. We're nakama. Nakama don't leave nakama behind, alone."

"Then why was it okay to leave Zoro?" Chopper demanded, voice pleading rather than angry now, because he could no longer maintain his ire. How had Luffy judged his timing so well? Was it really just instinct, or did he have some secret power of omniscience on top of his Devil's Fruit powers?

"When Zoro gets lost, do we all go after him? We split up. A few of us go looking for him. The others do whatever else needs to be done." Luffy leaned back farther than anyone else could in his position, arms stretching to allow him a full view of the nighttime sky.

Without Luffy's gaze on him, Chopper managed to sit up and wipe his face, barely surprised to find it wet. "Dying isn't like getting lost," Chopper said quietly; his voice felt too fragile to be lifted above a whisper. "Robin… I didn't want to believe she was gone either. But letting Zoro d-die too? That was just too much."

"I won't lose my nakama." Luffy put a hand on his head, as if to check his hat was still there. "I won't lose Robin. I won't lose anyone. If we'd just tried to bust out of that cave after Robin died, we would have lost her. This way we won't lose anyone."

"This way we lose two people," Chopper protested, pounding hooves against the ground in frustration. "You can't come back after you die! Why don't you understand?"

"How much bounty does Death have on its head?" Luffy mused. "Zoro's strong. He's taken out people with huge bounties. He can cut through steel. He can cut through anything. Compared to that, death doesn't stand a chance."

"He can cut through death too?" Awed, Chopper looked up into Luffy's face, and the belief he saw there was so powerful he could feel it too. Then the face split into its trademark grin.

"Say. Have you ever seen Zoro without his shirt?"

"What?!" Chopper sputtered, leaning back. Just when he felt so close to believing in his captain again, Luffy had to say something ridiculous like that. "What does that have to do with anything? I'm his doctor, of course I— What does that have to do with anything?"

"The scar." Luffy put a hand solemnly to his chest, as though he could feel it there, under his vest. "Did you ever ask him how he got it?"

"Um." The truth was, Zoro was a little too scary to ask about things like that. "I always figured it was some sort of battle scar."

"It's a promise," Luffy corrected. If Luffy had been concerned at all previously, his face held no trace of it now. He looked confidently into Chopper's eyes, a picture of beatific contentment and assurance. "It's Zoro's promise to big sword-ossan—and it's his promise to me. Until he becomes the greatest swordsman in the world, Zoro can't lose to anyone—that's what he promised me. You'll think he'll let some octopus stop him?"

Laughing, Luffy stood up, teetering precariously in the wind. "I don't get how you guys can be so worried," he said, and hopped off the crow's nest without a care for the vertical drop. There was a thump below, and Chopper jumped up, the doctor in him panicking over whether it was possible to splint rubber.

Then Luffy's voice wafted up, faint but cheerful as ever: "Oh, hi Nami! You didn't eat all the food, did you?"

"Who would do that but you?!"

"Great!" There was a series of happy bounces, and then the expected, "Saaaaanji, I'm hungry!"

Chopper climbed down slowly, to find Nami waiting at the bottom. She was looking at the log pose on her wrist, but since they were still anchored at shore, Chopper didn't think she was navigating.

They met each other's gaze for a moment. Chopper looked away first.

"He's pretty amazing, isn't he?" Nami said quietly. "Our captain, that is."

Chopper looked up at Nami, surprised.

"How much he trusts that direction-blind muscle-head, I mean." Nami smiled to show that she didn't mean it. Or at least that she didn't think any less of him for it. That much. "If there's a way to come back, of course we know Robin will find it. But Luffy believes in both of them completely. It's not 'if' there's a way. There's no doubt in his mind at all that Robin and Zoro will be back. Like I said, pretty amazing."

Chopper nodded, too ashamed at his earlier outburst to speak.

"I mean, that guy's not normal! When he says he'll do something, he does it. It doesn't even occur to him that other people's words might not be so trustworthy. Zoro says he'll bring Robin back, and Luffy immediately walks away singing."

"That's really something," Chopper agreed, daring to look up at Nami.

"Well, I didn't come out to talk to you about our insane captain." Nami kneeled down to so her eyes were level with Chopper's. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. We all did." She nodded over her shoulder, where Chopper saw that Sanji and Usopp were waiting, offering their reassuring smiles along with hers.

"I… I… That doesn't make me happy at all, idiots!" Chopper burst out, and ran past them, wiping his eyes for the second time that night, to the sound of laughter. "I couldn't care less that you were worried about me!"

He wasn't sure where he was going, though it seemed a good idea to fall asleep. He stopped when he passed the kitchen, though. The door pushed open at his slightest touch, and he took a hesitant step inside.

The man who was going to be Pirate King looked up, mouth stuffed beyond capacity with meat. "Mmfmm?" A rubber hand stretched protectively over his plate.

Chopper took a deep breath, steeled himself, and said: "I think our nakama will come back too! I think you made the right decision! Luffy."

"Hmm mmfmmm mnnn." Luffy grinned around his meat. Gone was the strangely wise captain from the crow's nest. Chopper hobbled back to dodge the food debris.

"Also, I'm glad for Zoro," Chopper added in a rush. "I'm glad he has someone who believes in him so much!"

He slammed the door before he could get any more food on his fur. With a tremendous sigh, he slid to the ground, resting his back against the cool wood of the Going Merry. He looked up at the moon, tracing the same crescent as Luffy's scar.

"Come back soon, everyone," Chopper whispered into the night, closed his eyes, and smiled.


	4. Death 0994

_Brief note on the title: __**Sansen Seikai** (Three Thousand Worlds) is one of Zoro's attacks. It's the one where he spins his swords around - the last move he tries in his fight against Mihawk._

* * *

//

* * *

With a third girl, their crew had evened out, at least in terms of gender. Cook-san was going to have trouble keeping up, Robin thought, with no small trace of amusement. 

They had left Whiskey Peak behind to the fog and the night. Dawn stretched out before them, spreading wide its inviting pink embrace. A few hours ago, Navigator-san had triumphantly announced that they were now on course for the next island, whatever it may be. Robin was taking advantage of the first light of day to catch up on her reading. Despite having been targeted for death by one of the Shichibukai, the Strawhat pirates were in high spirits. Luffy had suggested, of all things, a Hit List party, because "not everyone's on the Shichibukai's Hit List!" Navigator-san had had a few things to say about that, mostly with her fists, but once Luffy saw an opportunity to eat meat, he never let go. Even Miss Wednesday, their newest member, was timidly entering into the celebrations. Robin remembered how that felt, and offered an understanding smile over her book. If Hurricane Luffy took its course, pretty soon Miss Wednesday would feel just as much a part of the crew as the others. Herewas Luffy's greatest gift: the ability to make people feel welcome, feel at home, feel like nakama.

A shadow passed over her book. It didn't appear to be cloud-shaped, and she looked up, startled.

"Some sort of bird?" she murmured to herself.

"What was that, Robin-chwan?" Cook-san twirled into her line of vision. "Did you want another drink? I will gladly prepare it with all my love!"

Robin fought back a smile. "I'm fine, Cook-san. I just thought—"

"Oi. So the ship was here." Robin looked over just in time to see a silhouette leap aboard the Going Merry. It straightened up into a man, golden earrings swaying, the picture of careless self-assurance despite being aboard a strange pirate ship. "Yo," he offered by way of greeting, one hand reaching up to scratch lazily at the back of his head, the other hand going automatically to his hip, where three swords rested in their scabbards: two black and one white.

"Who are you?" Luffy demanded, turning around in his seat on the goat's head.

"Isn't that—?" Long Nose-kun began.

But it was Miss Wednesday's gasp that drowned out the other voices. "Mr. 1," she whispered, sinking to her knees. "Why… Why are you here?"

"Mr. 1?!" Navigator-san demanded, looking around wildly. "Isn't that right next to 0? Is his partner here too?"

"Mr. 0, Mr. 1, and Mr. 2, are the only Officer Agents who don't have partners," Miss Wednesday explained. "They are truly the Top Three of Baroque Works. Mr. 1 is also the only one who knows Mr. 0's true identity. We receive… received all our orders from him."

Apparently unimpressed by this introduction, Mr. 1 continued to scratch his head. "Why'd you have to make this ship so hard to find?" he said finally, ungracefully taking a seat on the railing. "I meant to get here hours ago but you weren't where you should've been."

"And where should we have been?" Navigator-san demanded. "More to the point, what are you doing on our ship? Vivi, is there anything else we should know about this man?"

"Yes." Miss Wednesday's fists were clenched on her lap; her face was drawn tight with pain, or perhaps anger. "This man is most likely… the one who killed Igaram!"

"Don't jump to conclusions, Miss Wednesday," Mr. 1 drawled lazily, casting his gaze about the ship. "Igaram is alive, if… slightly delayed. Who knows, you might even see him again, if you live."

"Then…"

"Relax, I'm not here on orders. I'm just here to—" Mr. 1's gaze stopped on Robin. She watched his expression go from surprised to pleased to smug in a matter of moments. "Miss Wednesday, I'm surprised at you," he said, though he didn't take his eyes off Robin. "Not reporting meeting such an infamous woman. Mr. 0 would've loved to hear about her."

Mr. 1 swung down from his seat and walked towards Robin, no hurry at all in his insouciant steps. His hand had yet to leave the hilts of his swords.

"Hold it right there, Marimo-head." Cook-san moved in to cut Mr. 1 off, putting himself in a better stance for kicking. "I won't let you lay a hand on Robin-chan." At this, Long Nose-kun aimed his slingshot, Navigator-san pulled out her staff, and even Luffy put a hand on his upper arm, getting ready to stretch it if necessary.

"Marimo?" Mr. 1 demanded. He paused in his steps to half-draw one of the black swords, apparently more concerned about the remark on his hair than the various weapons that were aimed at him.

"Your head looks like a giant marimo," Cook-san declared, dropping his cigarette and scuffing it out with his boot. "Maybe we should put it back in the ocean where it belongs."

"Say that again, Target-eyebrows," Mr. 1 snarled, lowering to a fighting stance. He parried the kick, turned to cut Long Nose-kun's Fire Star out of the air, and used the same motion to disarm Navigator-san. Before her staff had clattered to the floor, Robin was calling forth her hands, intending to pull the sword right out of Mr. 1's grip. As soon as her hands touched the blade, however, Robin collapsed forward onto the table, feeling like all the energy had been pulled out of her.

"Robin-chan!" Cook-san half-turned, trying to check on Robin while keeping Mr. 1 in his sight. "What did you do to Robin-chan, you shitty marimo?!"

"These katana are made of Sea Stone," Mr. 1 said, sheathing it without looking. "A little heavier than most blades, but useful. As you can see." He shouldered his way past Cook-san. Robin looked up as he approached, still drained from the contact with Sea Stone.

"Didn't I tell you to keep away from Robin-chan, Marimo?" Mr. 1 turned at the sound of Cook-san's voice, and Cook-san took the opportunity to swing a hard roundhouse at the agent's face. Mr. 1 managed to avoid having his neck snapped by ducking in time, but the strike clipped his face, drawing a red welt as it passed.

"And didn't I tell you to relax?!" Mr. 1 snarled right back. His hand went back to the sword, but he didn't draw it. "I told you, I'm not here on orders."

"Like we're supposed to believe that?" Cook-san launched another kick.

Mr. 1 dove out of the way, rolled, and came up holding both of his black swords. "All right, but you asked for this, he growled, and charged.

"S-Sanji, watch out," Long Nose-kun cautioned, from a safe distance. "I know who he is! That's Roronoa Zoro, the Pirate Hunter! He uses three swords and wears a green haramaki! No doubt about it—"

"I'm trying to focus here!" Cook-san leapt out of range of the swing, and took the moment when he landed to catch his breath. "What, not going to use that third sword? Think you can take me without your full power?"

Mr. 1 glanced down at the white sword that was still sheathed at his side. "I don't use this katana for Baroque Works business," he announced flatly, looking up at Cook-san as though daring him to argue.

"I thought you weren't here on orders," Cook-san sneered.

"I don't use this katana as long as I'm a member of Baroque Works," he amended. "I may work for that man, but this katana doesn't. Now are we going to do this, or what?"

"Huh." For a moment, Cook-san paused, curious. Robin took advantage of the moment to grow her hands out of Mr. 1's back, grabbing his arms by the biceps and pulling them in.

"Oh? Recovered already?" Mr. 1 turned to her and smirked. "Not bad."

"Now, Cook-san," Robin shouted, ignoring him.

"At once, Robin-chan!" Cook-san agreed, hearts in his eyes as he charged.

Unworried, Mr. 1 tossed one sword into the air with an easy flick of the wrist. Robin watched it flip through the air, flashing as its blade caught and reflected the light. As it came down, Mr. 1 caught it by the hilt.

In his teeth.

Grinning around the sword, Mr. 1 swung his head around to block Cook-san's kick. Rather than take the full force of the blow with a blade stuck between his teeth, Mr. 1 ducked under Cook-san's foot. With another twist of his head, he swung the sword toward one of Robin's hands. She managed to release him just in time to avoid another touch of that Sea Stone blade.

Straightening, Mr. 1 took the sword from his mouth. "What?" he asked innocently, looking around the ship again. "How did you expect me to hold the third sword, with my toes?"

He didn't seem to expect a response as he rubbed his cheek with the back of his hand. "Not that this isn't fun and all, but I didn't come here to fight."

"Then why did you come here?" Navigator-san asked, stepping out from behind the mast. "Sanji-kun, if he says he doesn't want a fight, let's try to avoid damaging Merry, all right?"

"Of course, Nami-swan!" Cook-san straightened at once. Mr. 1 shot a look of shocked disgust at the hearts that floated around Cook-san's head, and Cook-san growled at him. "Want to start something?"

Mr. 1 looked like he wanted to say something, then rolled his eyes and turned away. He placed both swords in their sheaths as he finally completed his journey to Robin's table, where Robin met his eyes warily.

"Are you going to tell us the best path to Arabasta?" Robin suggested, and Mr. 1 pulled back, confused.

"Why would I know anything about that? I'm a swordsman, not a navigator."

"Guess not, then." Robin shrugged. "It seemed right to me, that's all."

"I'm just here to talk to you."

"And why do you want to speak to me so much?" she asked. "How do you even know who I am?"

"Nico Robin," Mr. 1 shrugged. "Your face was posted everywhere when you were only eight years old. Pretty famous, I'd say."

"I've been in hiding for twenty years," Robin protested.

"No one can hide long in this ocean," Mr. 1 laughed. "Mr. 0 has been looking for you a long time, and suddenly you turn up right under his nose in Whiskey Peak? He'd throw a party if he knew. Inside he would, anyway." Mr. 1 made a face. "That guy needs to learn how to lighten up."

"Why is he looking for me?" Robin asked, though she was pretty sure she knew why.

Mr. 1 gave her a look that said that they both knew that he knew that she knew, but that he was going to humor her anyway. "Does the name Pluton mean anything to you?"

Though she was expecting it, Robin gasped, pushing her chair back to rise to her feet, half expecting at any moment to feel a blade at her neck.

"Robin-chan!" Cook-san dashed over. "Do you want me to kick this guy into the sky?"

"How many times have I told you? Relax." The smirk didn't leave Mr. 1's face as he leaned casually against the ship's side. "Mr. 0 never even has to know that you're here."

"He will if you tell him," Robin pointed out.

"And he won't if I don't. Easy, isn't it?"

"But you will." She didn't think there was any point pretending otherwise.

"Don't jump to conclusions," Mr. 1 told her. "You don't know anything about my motivations. The only reason I'm doing Mr. 0's dirty work is because he promised he'd help me find you—and here you are, no help needed. If you have what I want, I have no reason to even work for him anymore, much less tell him you're here."

"And what do you want?"

"_Rising Dawn_," Mr. 1 said, and Robin felt her back go stiff.

"What do you know of that book?"

"I know I want it, and I know you have it." Mr. 1 grinned like a shark. "Isn't that enough, in circumstances like these?" He toyed idly with one of his black swords, making metallic sounds as he slid it out of its sheath and let it fall again.

"I can't pretend to know what book you're talking about," Cook-san interrupted, "but Robin-chan's not giving you anything she doesn't want to."

"And then? When Mr. 0 sends his two thousand assassins after her?" Mr. 1 inclined his head without looking toward Miss Wednesday. "I'm sure our former agent can tell you a bit about what it's like to have the full force of Baroque Works after you."

"What do you want with _Rising Dawn_?" Robin asked quietly. "Immortality? Invincibility? The power to control life and death? Trying to interfere with the course of nature is a dangerous idea, Mr. 1."

"I don't care about any of that." Mr. 1 cast his gaze out to sea. "I just need a few more years. One, two. It won't take any longer than that."

"Robin," Navigator-san began questioningly.

Mr. 1 met Robin's gaze suddenly. "I just need to live a little longer than my body says I can, that's all. And to do that, I need the book you have."

"I'll show it to you," Robin decided, "but it won't help you."

"What do you mean?" Mr. 1 leaned forward, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"You'll see." Robin retrieved the book from the women's cabin with the help of her Devil's Fruit. She set it down on the table and looked up to make sure Mr. 1 had read the gold-engraved title on the cover. Without a word, she opened it to the first page, which was blank. She picked up a sheaf of pages and flipped through them with her thumb, so that Mr. 1 could see they were all blank.

"Impossible." Mr. 1 ran up to the table and began paging frantically through the book. For the first time since he'd arrived, the confident smirk had vanished from his face. "_Rising Sun _contains the secret of beating death. How can it be blank?"

The other pirates had crowded around the table too, looking on in bewilderment.

"I looked at every single page," said Robin. "There's only one that's not blank."

"Only one?" And Mr. 1 stopped flipping suddenly. He set the book back on the table, opened to its one illustration. The Strawhat pirates studied it dutifully for a moment, then looked up at Robin, faces as blank as the book. Mr. 1, however, reeled back as though hit.

"You too?" Robin asked, looking up at him.

"It's… it's her," he stammered, and Robin was almost amused to hear the confident secret agent fumbling with his words.

"You know her?"

"Quit fooling around!" Mr. 1 snapped. "You know her too, don't you? It's written all over your face. You have the dream too! You've seen her. You…"

He trailed off, and Robin smiled.

"But." He put a hand to his head, as though trying to jostle the images into place. "Doesn't she look… wrong to you? Her… her hands. And her legs. They're…"

"Too straight?"

"Too pale."

"Too few."

"Too…" Mr. 1 shook his head. "Why isn't she an octopus?"

There was a brief silence. Then the Strawhat Pirates, as one, broke into laughter.

"H-hey!" Mr. 1 snapped. He looked terribly confused, and who could blame him, when he'd been transformed from threat to laughingstock in the span of two seconds?

"You're funny!" Luffy said, adding the voice that had been conspicuously absent the entire time. "You put swords in your mouth and you think girls should be octopuses. Want to be my nakama?"

"What?!" Cook-san stopped laughing. "You can't be serious. Why would you want this stupid marimo—"

"—who tried to kill us!" Long Nose-kun interjected helpfully.

"—to join our crew?" Cook-san finished.

"Because he's cool!" Luffy gave Mr. 1 a good-natured slap on the back. "How about it? Want to join?"

"Don't joke with me," Mr. 1 snapped, pulling away. He shot one last glance at the girl pictured in the book, then scowled up at Robin. "How is that one picture supposed to be the answer?"

"You tell me," Robin shrugged.

Mr. 1 let out an irritated sigh. "Dead end again, I guess." He strode back across the deck to the opposite side of the ship. "Banchi," he called over the railing, then stopped. He looked upwards sharply, grabbing the swords at his waist. The bird Robin had seen earlier was back, and it was circling over Mr. 1's head. It was a vulture, she realized, carrying a—was that an otter? She wondered if it bothered him a little that there was a vulture circling over him. Surely he wasn't about to die?

"The Unluckies," Miss Wednesday gasped, as bird and otter lowered. The otter held out a rather good pencil drawing of Robin's face, hat and all.

Mr. 1 considered it for all of a second before he drew his sword, slicing it down and resheathing it faster than the eye could follow. The vulture tumbled to the deck of the Going Merry, bloody black feathers scattering everywhere. The otter fell after it, clutching half of Robin's picture in each hand.

"You—you killed the Unluckies?" Miss Wednesday demanded, voice horrified.

"You showed me the book," Mr. 1 shrugged. "Nothing useful in it, but you showed it to me anyway. This way Mr. 0 won't find out you're here. Seems fair to me."

"But… but you killed them," Miss Wednesday insisted.

"Yeah, I guess they did lead me here. Don't know if I'll be able to find my way back now."

"That's not the point! If Mr. 0 hears about this—"

"Who's going to tell him?" Mr. 1 grinned and raised a hand. "Later."

"I'll keep working on the book," Robin called after him. "It's important to me too."

If Robin had been hoping for surprised gratitude, she would've been disappointed. "Thanks," Mr. 1 said simply, and hopped overboard. "Let's go, Banchi!"

Luffy ran after him, the others a step behind, just in time to see a giant turtle swim away, Mr. 1 on its back.

"Whoa, so cool!" Luffy yelled after him. "Now you definitely have to join our crew!"

"Like hell," Mr. 1 and Cook-san yelled at the same time.

Cook-san waited until Mr. 1 had vanished into the distance. Then he walked to the otter. He inspected it for a moment, then reached down and took the two pieces of paper out of its motionless hands.

He looked up to see Miss Wednesday staring at him, horrified. "What?" he asked. "It's a good picture."

* * *

The next time they saw him was two weeks later. They were sitting around the kitchen table, having a seafood lunch, when a baby den den mushi rang. 

Navigator-san turned to Miss Wednesday. "Vivi, do you have a den den mushi?" she asked.

Miss Wednesday shook her head and turned to Cook-san. "Cook-san, maybe it's yours?"

"I don't have one either," Cook-san said. "The first time I saw one was on Little Garden, when I found Mr. 3's—" He froze suddenly.

There was a loud yawn, and then Mr. 1 sat up in the dark corner where he had been napping. "Yeah? It's me," he said into the mouthpiece, adjusting the front of his shirt.

"WHAT ARE _YOU_ DOING HERE?"

"Is there someone else there?" The den den mushi said suspiciously. It managed a supremely unhappy expression, for a snail.

"Don't worry about it," said Mr. 1 calmly. "I'm on a boat. Did you want something, Zero?"

"_That's_ Mr. 0?" Navigator-san hissed, while Miss Wednesday fixed her gaze on the den den mushi as though she might kill the person on the other side of the line if she glared hard enough. So this was the infamous Shichibukai, Crocodile.

"How nice of you to ask," Mr. 0 said jovially. "Now that you mention it, yes… I did want to know _where you've been for the past two weeks_."

"Oh, that." Mr. 1 waved a dismissive hand, though Crocodile couldn't possibly see it. "I headed back from Whiskey Peak on Banchi, but Arabasta wasn't there, so I turned around again. Has it been two weeks already?"

"What do you mean, it wasn't there?" Mr. 1's voice lowered dangerously. "All you had to do was follow the Eternal Pose. Even you couldn't have gotten lost.

"You have an Eternal Pose?" Navigator-san said eagerly. After Little Garden, and then Wapol, no one wanted to risk having to go to another dangerous island.

"Eh?" Mr. 1 looked up at her. He dug one-handedly into his haramaki until he produced the Eternal Pose, which he tossed to her carelessly.

"Is someone else there?" Mr. 0 asked again, as Navigator-san grabbed desperately for the Eternal Pose that flew past her head. Cook-san dove to the floor to make the catch and came up with his eyes full of hearts.

"Nothing to worry about," said Mr. 1. "I'm on a boat heading for Arabasta now. Go feed your crocodiles or something, I'll be there soon."

"Mr. 1," Crocodile said, "I'd hoped that you would have learned to show respect by now. Or do you want to die the next time you try your three-sword trick?"

"It's not a three-sword trick," Mr. 1 ground out, "It's Santouryuu. And when I can use it again, I might just kill you with it. Bye then!"

Mr. 1 hung the mouthpiece up, put the den den mushi away, and then, without another word, lay back down.

"Hold on," Cook-san said, jumping to his feet. "We find you stowing away on our ship, and you don't even offer an explanation?"

"Tired," said Mr. 1. "Nap." Almost as soon as he finished his monosyllables, he began to snore.

"That stupid marimo!" Cook-san strode over to the corner.

"Er," said Doctor-san, "I don't know who this is, but is it okay to attack someone while he's sleeping?"

Cook-san looked like he was seriously considering kicking the swordsman's face in, sleeping or no. He backed down reluctantly. "If he weren't asleep," he muttered.

"Oi, I forgot to ask." Mr. 1 sat up suddenly.

"YOU WERE FAKING? I'LL KICK YOU THROUGH THE WALL only not, because Nami-swan would be upset if I broke the ship."

Navigator-san nodded in self-satisfaction. "They can be taught! By the way, Mr. 1," she pronounced the name like a scam, "if you couldn't find Arabasta, how exactly did you find your way back to this ship?"

Mr. 1 shrugged. "I just followed my instinct."

"So basically, you got lost," Robin said.

Mr. 1 cleared his throat. "I meant to ask—have you found anything out about the book?"

"I have a few theories," Robin hedged. "There is one thing before we begin, though. I had Long Nose-kun make a few changes to the picture, which I'd like to show you."

The book was lying nearby; she had been staring at it on and off for the past two weeks. She opened it to the page, which was now bookmarked, and held it up for Mr. 1. "Does this look about right?"

Mr. 1 got up and had a seat at the table, leaning in to inspect the picture more closely. Watching his expression, Robin could tell when Mr. 1 saw the rather intricately detailed tentacles, and when his eyes traveled to the trees and flowers Long Nose-kun had added to the background, thanks to something he called artistic license.

"It looks right, but…" Mr. 1 put his hand on the table, where he accidentally knocked over a plate. An octopus—fully cooked, finely sliced, but still recognizably an octopus on account of the suckers on the tentacles—tumbled out. An expression of absolute disgust filled his face, but before he could do anything, a hand sprouted out the table, picked up the piece of octopus, and threw in Luffy's direction. Luffy stretched his head up and caught it in his mouth, dog-like.

Mr. 1 shot Robin a questioning look.

"It's been bothering me this entire time too," Robin explained. "You were saying?"

"Ah. It looks fine, but what's with this fountain?"

"I thought the background was missing a little something," Long Nose-kun stepped in. "I bet you didn't know the Great Usopp-sama was such a talented artist, did you?"

Mr. 1 looked at him. Paused. "Who are you?"

The long nose bent as the Great Usopp-sama banged his forehead against the table.

"Usopp!" Doctor-san cried, rushing over. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"Just my pride as a man," Long Nose-kun moaned.

"It's a good fountain though," Mr. 1 said, sounding more like he was puzzled than like he particularly wanted to be comforting. "The, uh, fairy at the top is very detailed."

Long Nose-kun sat up, past wounds instantly forgotten. "Ah, yes, good eye for detail! That is actually an angel on top of the fountain, modeled after the most beautiful woman in all the seas. I'm impressed that you managed to catch that! Luffy, I can see why you wanted him on your crew. The Great Captain Usopp gives his approval."

"I thought Strawhat was the captain?" Mr. 1 said. Then he shook his head. "This place is crazy. What did you say you found out about the book?"

Robin smiled. "It's a good kind of crazy. You might like it here."

"And the book?" Mr. 1 insisted.

"Hmm," she said. "Well, there was also something else."

"Another 'one thing' before we begin?"

"Yes. A question, if you don't mind."

"Don't mind if you ask," said Mr. 1, which meant he might not be as inclined to answer.

"I already did. Two weeks ago."

"And I already answered."

"Then—why do you need an extra year or two? It seems like such a small amount of time for such a lot of trouble."

She could see Mr. 1 debating whether or not to answer the question. Finally, he did something completely unexpected—he lifted up his shirt.

"That looks terrible," Miss Wednesday whispered.

"Doesn't look so bad to me," said Cook-san dismissively.

"Whoaaa," Luffy said, leaning in excitedly. "What a huge scar! That's so cool, be my nakama," he added in the same breath.

"Luffy, don't choose your nakama based on their scars," Navigator-san hissed.

"He has a den den mushi, too!" Luffy offered.

"Not good enough."

"He hates octopuses."

"NO."

"Uh, Mr. 1?" Doctor-san asked. "Do you need some help with that? I'm a doctor."

"I'm fine." Mr. 1 pulled his shirt back down. "…And that's why," he added, when Robin continued to look at him expectantly.

"Why what?" Robin asked.

"Why I need to beat death."

"I must admit, I'm still a little confused."

"I skipped the boring details," Mr. 1 confessed. "Now can we—?"

"Surely it's not life-threatening?" said Robin.

"It looked mostly healed to me," Doctor-san agreed.

"Ah," Long Nose-kun said wisely. "That's how it looks to the untrained eye. However, only experience will tell that Mr. 1 is actually suffering from an extremely rare medical condition, one that will soon kill him. Painfully. That's why he needs more time."

"But Usopp, I'm a doctor," Doctor-san said, reproachfully.

"Er."

"If you really want to know," Mr. 1 sighed, looking around at a table of his enemies. "I won't die from this as I am. I got it challenging the greatest swordsman in the world for his title. I lost, so he gave me this."

"A huge scar?"

"It's a promise," Mr. 1 corrected. "I promised to train myself harder and fight him again when I'm stronger. Problem is, it didn't heal right. As soon as the training gets a little intense, the thing splits open, blood everywhere. The first time it happened, I ignored it."

"You kept _training_?" said Navigator-san.

"See? Cool scar! We should get him!" said Luffy.

"Well, you get the idea. After they had to fix me up a couple of times, the doctors stopped taking me in."

"What do you mean by fix you up?" Navigator-san muttered under her breath. "And just how many is a couple?"

"If I can't train, there's no way I can beat him. I can't get stronger either—I'll always be stuck at this level."

"You probably can't fight to your fullest either. A promise that defeats itself," Robin mused.

"That's why I just need a year or two—long enough to get strong, to win my title, to meet my promises. Then I don't care if I die." Mr. 1 drummed his fingers on the table. "If we've had enough of my personal history, can we talk about—?"

"I know there wasn't a mistake in printing," Robin segued smoothly. "It's the only copy in existence. Any rumors about it can't refer to any other version."

"So you're saying it's supposed to be all blank except for that one page."

Robin looked at him, surprised. Somehow she'd expected him to be rather slow on the uptake, all muscle and no brain. "Yes, that is what I'm saying. That means that this woman is the only clue we have. I guess we're supposed to talk to her. Maybe she's the only one who knows how to beat death."

"Hmm," said Mr. 1, as he processed this.

"Do you believe that?" Robin asked.

Mr. 1 looked up, startled at her tone of voice. "You mean you don't?"

"I'm asking what you think."

"It sounds okay, but it doesn't feel right."

Robin nodded, satisfied. "I agree with you."

"Robin-chwan!" Cook-san swept over to the table suddenly, bearing a tall, cool drink. "I made you this drink with all of my heart!"

"That sounds disgusting—wait." Mr. 1 looked around suddenly. "Where did they all go?"

"Thank you, Cook-san. They all left when we started talking. They said something about strange currents." Robin smiled. "Didn't you notice, Mr. 1?"

"Uh." He cleared his throat. "You were saying?"

"We both just agreed that my theory, while plausible, was most likely wrong."

"Ah." Mr. 1 leaned in. "So what's your real theory?"

"You're much more perceptive than I expected," Robin noted, then continued, "I think what we need to do in order to beat death is—"

"Sanji-kun! Robin! We need you out here! Something's coming out of the water!"

"Yes, Nami-swaaan!" Cook-san pranced out, then stopped suddenly. "What is that thing?"

"It looks like…"

"YOU MEAN THERE REALLY IS AN OCTOPUS WOMAN? I THOUGHT ROBIN WAS JUST MAKING FUN OF US!"

Robin looked over to Mr. 1, but his chair was already empty. She only paused long enough to grab the book before running after him. On the deck, the object of her dreams and waking studies awaited, a vision in white and tentacle. When it moved, it made a wet, sucking sort of sound.

"It's a little larger than I expected," Robin remarked.

Mr. 1 had put the white sword in his mouth before he realized what he was doing. He hesitated, then drew another sword.

"You know what I was going to say, right?" Robin asked him, as she watched Cook-san struggle between adoration and revulsion at the lady/octopus combination. "I think the only way to beat death is to kill her."

"Ah." Mr. 1 looked down at the sword in his hands for a moment. "That sounds about right to me." He drew his last sword.

Luffy was hitting the tentacles as hard as he could to make them let go of Doctor-san. Tired of waiting, Doctor-san transformed into his larger shape, grabbed the nearest tentacle, and yanked.

"Maybe you should write that down in the book," suggested Mr. 1.

"What? That she needs to be killed?"

"Yeah. You don't care if I take this fight?" Mr. 1 untied a dark bandana from his arm. "For all we know, only the person who kills it will be able to—"

Octopus-woman hissed in displeasure as Luffy bit one of her arm-tentacles. She managed to dislodge Luffy's rather impressive teeth as well as Doctor-san's firm grip, but the mad thrashing overbalanced her many tentacles. With a confused screech, she tumbled overboard, and vanished into the ocean.

Cursing, Mr. 1 ran over. Pausing only to tie on the bandana, he dove in after it, three blades shining briefly before he submerged.

"Didn't he say he couldn't—?" Navigator-san began.

"He did," Robin agreed. She leaned over the railing, but all she could see below was the dark, churning ocean. She hoped Mr. 1 was a good swimmer, but recognized that it probably wouldn't make a difference. "What do you think we should be looking for?" she wondered aloud. "Blood would probably be easiest to see against the water."

"That's horrible," Navigator-san said, without malice.

"It's not," said Robin. "He's not nakama. We tried to help him, but he is the enemy. We might all be dead within the week anyway, once we face Crocodile."

"That's why I said we should've made him our nakama," Luffy whined, head and arms dangling limply over the railing. "Now it's too late. Sanji, maybe you could—"

"Not a chance. The stupid marimo jumped in by himself," said Cook-san. Then, maybe taking pity on Luffy, he added, "Who knows. Maybe he's winning."

Luffy quickly got bored of watching an empty stretch of ocean. "They probably went too deep," he grumbled, disappointed, and turned to go find some food. "Robin, tell me if you see him."

"Of course," she agreed. When the crimson stain finally did appear on the surface of the water, she decided not to say anything. It wasn't exactly him, after all.

Who knew. Maybe he'd won.


	5. Usopp

Usopp woke with all his nerves on edge.

This was unusual: through all his countless thrilling adventures, he had never developed such a strong sense of danger that he was alert to it even while asleep, nor had he formed the habit of waking immediately, ready for whatever the world chose to throw at him.

It was only to be expected, considering he'd never needed this level of constant watchful awareness. Syrup Village was as safe as safe got, apart from the daily pirate attacks, and from the moment he'd left its familiar shores, he'd been protected by insanely strong and brilliant nakama. Plus the great thing about being a brave warrior of the sea was that at night, one could leave one's battles to the land, and retire to sleep in the safety of one's ship. The sea was vast, and the greatest warrior was, by comparison, so very infinitesimally tiny. The chances were small that, in all the great ocean, a boat would happen upon theirs, especially in the middle of the night. Usopp couldn't remember the last time he'd had to wake up quickly or die. No matter how stressful the adventures of the day, at night Usopp slept securely with his nakama, protected by Merry's watchful eyes, cupped in the gently turning tides of the ocean.

So why did he now lay suddenly, startling awake in his hammock? He was too jittery to stay still and too afraid to move. There was something off in the darkness around him. Instincts he didn't know he had set off all the alarm bells in his head, gibbering incoherently about some nebulous threat that it couldn't see but _knew_ was out there. He didn't know what it was or what it wanted; all he knew was that if he so much as moved, or _breathed_, the world would come crashing down around his head, assuming it was still there and attached to his body for the world to crash down onto.

How could he defend himself and his nakama against this shadowed assailant? If only he knew what it was. Desperately he strained his ears, until he felt sure he had turned listening into an active skill that might leave marks on anything he happened to hear. Even so, he could discern no hint of terrifying monsters scrabbling in the darkness, no trace of dread fiends stalking across the room, swishing their blades through the air as test runs before delivering their final, fatal blow.

Gradually, Usopp calmed. Surely if the Going Merry was under attack, he would have heard it by now. If danger had boarded the asylum of their vessel, why would it wait so long to assert itself? Besides, and this was the most important thing, he really couldn't hold his breath any longer.

As he took long, deep breaths, the reality of his immediate surroundings asserted itself over whatever nightmare world he'd previously inhabited. The hammock felt so wonderfully familiar under his body. Tangled though it had gotten in his terror, the blanket was just as he remembered it, right up to the one edge that frayed into hopeless threads. Usopp reached a hand over his head and felt the fastenings that secured his hammock to the wall. He had fixed them himself when the old ones had failed, dumping him unceremoniously to the floor one painful night. He formed a picture in his mind of each makeshift link as his fingers traced their shapes in the darkness, and remembered the construction of it, the attachment.

Everything around him was normal, familiar. He was safe. He was where he should be. The world was—okay, the world was still pretty scary, but at least the part of it that was named Going Merry was good and safe and protected.

He felt his muscles all unclench at once, felt the relief pour through him in a wave. He'd laugh about this in the morning, though he wouldn't tell anyone. Imagine what they'd think if they knew that the Great Usopp-sama had let some stupid nightmare get him all worked up.

No, he wouldn't tell them. He'd just lie here, breathing softly, slowly, until sleep glided in to carry him away.

Except that, for some reason, he still couldn't fall asleep. There was still something different about his surroundings that, try as he might, he couldn't blame on leftover adrenaline.

More annoyed than afraid now, Usopp crossed his arms over his chest and gazed up at a ceiling he couldn't see. "It's quiet," he whispered dramatically to himself, "too quiet."

Cliché though it was, the catchphrase was a switch that turned on the proverbial light bulb. The glare was blinding.

Of course, Usopp thought, and resisted the urge to hit himself on the forehead. Zoro wasn't there. The room that should have been filled with snoring (or at least echoed with faint snores from outside, if the ever vigilant Zoro had pulled guard duty) was utterly silent. Without it, Usopp found, he couldn't sleep.

He was faintly bothered by this realization. Actually, strike that, he was downright irritated. As far as he knew, things like this only happened to married couples who had lived together so long that absence came with a distinct feeling of loss. In that sense, the pirates on the Going Merry were like one big married couple. He wondered if anyone else was lying awake listening for snores. He wondered if Nami, alone in her room as she hadn't been since Vivi joined, felt something missing.

If—no, when—_when _Zoro came back, Usopp was going to have a few words for him. "Dammit, Zoro," he would say, in the kind but authoritative voice of the morally superior, "How could you run off and leave us like that? Don't you realize that we're all one big married couple on this ship?"

Ah, yes, and then Zoro would be terribly repentant, and swear never to leave the Merry again. "Thank you, Usopp-sama, for showing me the error of my ways! I will take you as my example! I will always remember this lesson, and never… _ever_… throw my life away… into a stupid… underground… lake…"

Usopp put a hand over his eyes and willed himself to believe. Gradually, he became aware of a faint sound that hadn't been there previously. The monster? No, as far as scary monster sounds went, this one was distinctly unthreatening. In fact, it sounded like…

"Chopper?" Usopp sat up too suddenly, and the swaying hammock nearly dumped him out. He made his way cautiously over to Chopper, and saw that the little reindeer was smiling the widest, shakiest smile ever through a stream of tears.

"I believe in Robin and Zoro," Chopper whispered fiercely, still trying to maintain that trembling smile. "I believe in Luffy. I believe in our nakama."

The great Usopp was momentarily at a loss for words. _Dammit, Zoro,_ he thought.

"It's just…" Chopper's mouth quivered against the tide of his tears, "why won't they come _back_ already? I miss them. I want them back. I…"

Usopp searched furiously for a story in the depths of soul. He took a deep breath. "Have I ever told you about the time…" His mouth, which could run on autopilot for hours without any guidance from his brain, chose this moment to falter and fail. "It's the snoring, isn't it?"

Chopper nodded morosely. "And the way he turns over sometimes to talk to his katana, though he'll say he doesn't remember it in the morning. And I went outside just now and Robin wasn't _there_." This last sent Chopper into a fresh wave of tears.

The Great Captain Usopp thrives on challenges, Usopp told himself fiercely. He saves the day, every day. He saves the day _three times_ a day, once with each meal, like medication. A little thing like this is nothing for him. He took a deep breath. "You know, Chopper, I was just about to go to my workshop."

"Your… workshop?"

"I'm working on a magnificent new invention! Why did you think I'd be up in the middle of the night? I call it—The Amazing Sleep Machine, by Usopp-sama."

"The Amazing Sleep Machine, by Usopp-sama?" Chopper sat up. Even without light, Usopp could tell that Chopper was excited. He glowed. He practically _was_ a light.

"That's right," Usopp crowed (quietly, as not to wake Luffy). "As my most faithful assistant, how would you like to help me put on the finishing touches?"

"Really??"

"Shhh!" Usopp helped Chopper down. "Not so loud! We don't want everyone to know!"

Chopper eagerly agreed.

A hammer, scraps, and some quick work led to a box-like contraption with a long lever, a rolling counterweight, and two open slots. As the finishing touch, Usopp produced, with a flourish—

"Dials?" Chopper gasped.

"Tone Dials," Usopp corrected. "Now all we have to do is make the sound of Zoro snoring. Fortunately, I am an expert. Watch me. First, you have to make a big scowling face." Usopp used his fingers to push the tips of his eyebrows down.

"Does that make you sound more like him?" Chopper asked, fascinated.

"It helps you pretend to be Zoro. Now, you open your mouth really wide, like you're at the dentist." Usopp opened his mouth, took a deep gulp of air, and then exhaled it as loudly as he could, producing a sound that could easily have attracted any female wildebeests in the vicinity.

"That's not how Zoro sounds!" Chopper practically fell over giggling. "You sound like a moose!"

Usopp affected a deeply offended face. "I thought that was a perfectly good imitation," he said, thrusting his nose into the air, to more giggles. "Well if you're such an expert, why don't you do it?"

It took a few more minutes for Chopper to stop giggling, but he finally obliged. He puffed up one cheek and produced a surprisingly good imitation of Zoro's snoring for the Dial, though Usopp noted that Chopper also made sure he scowled while he was doing it.

"That was perfect, Chopper! Can you do it again for the other Dial?"

"You idiot! You think that'll make me happy?" Chopper made pleased wiggles with his body, and repeated his snore.

Usopp nodded in satisfaction. "Now we just put this here, and this here, adjust this, and push this…" The lever tilted to press the first Tone Dial. A ball rolled, a string was tugged, and the lever tipped over to press the other one. The process repeated over and over in a strangely hypnotic fashion, and the storage room was soon filled with a fair imitation of the sound of Zoro napping.

"Whoa, that's so great, Usopp!"

"That's why they call me Great Inventor Usopp," Usopp said, smugly. He picked the machine up and carried it back to their cabin. "The Dials even catch the sounds coming out of each other, so it can go on forever."

"Usopp, you're amazing!" Chopper cheered.

Sanji's head appeared over the edge of the crow's nest. "What's going on down there? Do I hear—?"

"Just a little invention of mine," Usopp stated, quite suavely, as Chopper opened the door for him. "Go back to watching."

He walked into the cabin and set his Amazing Sleeping Machine under Zoro's hammock before crawling into his own. He listened to the sound for some time. Though it had been intended as a quick distraction for Chopper and constructed in under an hour, Usopp was surprised to find that it really worked. Maybe he was just tired from all that excitement, he thought, as his eyelids drooped. He heard Luffy mumble something about meat before he finally fell asleep.

* * *

The next morning, Usopp sat on the deck for some time, thinking about what a nice breeze there was, now that they were sailing again, and how beautiful the weather, and how much Robin would probably have liked to be reading on the deck just then.

And so noon found Usopp arranging Robin's chair on the deck, and a small table by it. He put up an umbrella for shade, and stepped back to contemplate his work.

"Usopp, lunch—What are you doing?" Halfway out of the kitchen, Sanji stopped to stare.

"Oh, Sanji, perfect timing!" Usopp waved him over. "Could you do me a favor? Could you just do that thing you always do?"

"What thing?"

"Where you waltz over here with a drink on your tray," Usopp mimed holding a tray with a huge grin on his face, before dropping both tray and facial expression impatiently, "and you offer it to Robin while she's reading."

"Usopp." Sanji sounded very concerned. "Are you okay? Robin isn't—Do you want me to get Chopper?"

"No, no, just pretend. It's like the snoring—I mean, the Amazing Sleeping Machine, by Usopp-sama. It helped, didn't it?"

Sanji looked affronted, treating the suggestion as one might treat a particularly vicious soup stain on one's silk shirt.

"Well, it helped me, anyway," Usopp said. "Just to fill in the gaps while they're gone."

Sanji leaned in. "Usopp, this sort of thing really isn't healthy. Sometimes you have to let go."

"But it's not like they're never coming back," Usopp laughed with more confidence than he felt. "This is just a way to hold their places for them. You know? Keep their seat warm. That sort of thing."

Sanji looked supremely unconvinced, but he shrugged and said he'd see what he could do. A few minutes later, he pranced out of the kitchen bearing a tray with a tall drink beaded with condensation. Standing somewhat awkwardly by the chair set up, he tried, "Robin-chan, are you thirsty?" Then he looked questioningly at Usopp.

"Uh… okay," said Usopp. "Not bad. But where are all the hearts?"

"What hearts?"

"You know, whenever you do this, you have these… hearts." He curled thumb and forefinger on each hand into a half heart and put them together over his face.

"Usopp, are you sure you don't want me to get Chopper? Because—"

"Nami in a bikini!" Usopp called suddenly.

"Eh? What are you— Nami-san's bikini look is so wonderful!" Sanji gushed suddenly, nearly spilling the drink.

"See? Hearts!"

Sanji gave Usopp a strange look. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Look, you should really get some lunch before Luffy eats it all."

"Can you just try one more time?" Usopp asked. "Maybe try imagining Robin sitting there?"

With a sigh that said he was just humoring the poor delusional man, Sanji turned, and went down on one knee beside Robin's table. "Robin-chwaan! I brought you a—" He stopped, shook his head, and stood up apologetically. "This really isn't going to work. I'm sorry, Usopp."

"It's no problem," Usopp said, as he resumed staring at Robin's table and chair arrangement with a gloomy look on his face. "By the way, can I have that drink?"

* * *

After lunch, Usopp was sitting on the deck again with Chopper, who was translating the clicks and squeaks of a pod of dolphins traveling alongside their ship. There was a loud thump behind him, and Usopp jumped to attention. He turned to see that Sanji had dropped a long sack of potatoes on the stairs.

"What's this?" Usopp asked.

"Well, I couldn't really help you with Robin-chan, but this is all that idiot marimo does anyway." Sanji looked down at the potatoes for a moment, hand on his hip. "He does pick the worst places to nap, too." With a marker, Sanji drew Zoro a very unflattering face. He added a trail of drool and nodded to himself. Capping the marker, he gave Usopp a strange grin, and lit a cigarette.

At this, Nami emerged from the women's cabin with a book and one of Robin's hats. "Don't lose it," she cautioned, handing it to Usopp, and he took particular care to secure both in their place on the table and chair.

Chopper managed to find three poles, one of which still had a mop attached. He leaned these against the wall by Zoro, and the four of them looked on approvingly at their own handiwork for a moment.

Luffy emerged from the kitchen, having eaten every last scrap to be found on the table, and promptly tripped over the sack of potatoes.

Usopp hurried forward with an explanation forming on his lips, lest Luffy took it upon himself to eat Zoro in his starchy tuber form. The explanation wasn't needed though, as Luffy's eyes lit up in instant recognition. "Oh, Zoro!"

"It was the drool," Sanji smirked. "Dead giveaway."

"And Robin too," Luffy added, grinning. "This is great, guys. Hey, I know!" He rushed into the kitchen and returned with a sprig of parsley, which he had apparently not seen fit to consume earlier, though perhaps he had set it aside thanks to some strange foresight. He placed this on Zoro's crown and nodded with great self-satisfaction.

At least competing with Luffy in creative endeavors was familiar. Usopp found their paint cans in storage. He mixed Strawhat yellow with sky blue until he got the right shade of green, which he applied liberally to the top of Zoro's head, along with a much darker shade for detailing. It looked pretty good, if he did say so himself, and decided to add the waistband too, while he was at it.

After some consideration, he decided to leave the parsley. It went well with the face.

"I'm going to see if I can find that marimo-head some mold for his hair." Grinning, Sanji headed for the kitchen, but stopped dead at the door. Usopp couldn't imagine what the cook saw inside, but seeing how he'd left Luffy alone in the galley for over five minutes, it was probably, at the very least, quite clean.

"LUFFY!"

The Going Merry sailed on.


	6. Death 2070

He will probably always remember the day he loses for the one-thousandth time, because first of all it's his birthday, and second of all he can't fight for a week afterwards.

It's also the day that the strange lady arrives, seeking shelter. The closest town is far away, and night is coming. She doesn't know anything about swords, she says, but she's grateful to be put up for a few nights, and she's not averse to helping with whatever needs to be done. Sensei asks Kuina to look after the stranger, who introduces herself as Robin. Zoro, lying on his pallet in the next room, listens to Kuina talk. She is more polite with adults than she is with children, more friendly with those who aren't training to be swordsmen than with those who are. Maybe she doesn't see Robin as competition. Maybe she just doesn't care to be polite to Zoro. He can't make out what they're talking about, but something Kuina says shocks Robin, and their voices lower to a hush. The sound is distorted through the wall, and he lets it wash over him in the darkness as he attempts to flex his hand.

He supposes it was a good birthday present from Kuina, that she finally deigned to fight him with all of her strength. He had no idea he was so far behind. The idea enrages him. Even after he finds no satisfactory way to grip a sword with his feet, he continues to train, his mouth taking up the weapon his left hand can't carry. Some stupid broken bones aren't going to stop him from getting stronger, and once they heal he's just going to have to work extra hard to make up for the missing days. The doctors here are pretty stupid. They say he might never be able to use his dominant hand again, which is just… stupid. The greatest swordsman in the world can't be a cripple.

Kuina says stupid things too. Whenever she sees him, there's this soft expression in her eyes, open and vulnerable, like she's laid bare by the guilt and she's just waiting for him to hit her.

"I'm crippled too," she says, like she means to comfort. "My father says that girls will mature to be weaker than boys, that a woman can never become the world's greatest. I was crippled from the moment I was born. But maybe the two of us…"

"I'm not crippled," he snarls, dropping the weights he was holding with his teeth. He turns to leave, then stops. "And you're not crippled either! The only weak girl thing about you is when you look at me like that!"

"Like what?"

"Like you ruined my life forever, and now you have to be _nice_ to me about it. That's weak!"

She's saying something else, but he can't hear, because his ears are filled with this gigantic tidal roar, like ocean waves are battering their way out of his skull. They have their one-thousand-first fight, and Kuina loses.

For a moment, he doesn't realize it when her weapon falls. For the next, he can't believe it. After that, there's nothing to do but cry. He throws his own weapons down. The tears pour without end but he has never felt angrier in his life.

"You _are_ weak, Kuina!" He rips the splint off his left arm, and throws it at her, bandages at all. He shakes his crumpled hand in her face; his fingers are on fire, his bones are all-consuming embers of heat and pain, but this at least feels no worse than the rest of him. "You think you owe me something because you crushed this hand? Don't be nice! If you owe me anything, it's to fight me with all you've got. You think you need to go easy on me now? I have teeth! I can heal! Don't you dare think you need to be _careful_ with me, because you don't!"

She wants to wait for him to calm down before they fight again. He's never really calm, but once he no longer scares his younger classmates to tears simply by looking at them, he resumes his challenges. She claims she's not going easy on him, but she loses again and again. Where once he fought her endlessly to win, now he fights her endlessly hoping to lose. His attacks become more and more vicious, as though to force a response, but there is something broken in her. She reacts sluggishly, she trembles as she parries; there is no force behind her attacks, rare as they are.

"You're the one person I can't fight," she admits finally, head lowering in defeat.

"So this is the future greatest swordsman in the world, huh?" Zoro jabs at her with the end of a bamboo practice sword. "All you have to do to beat her is let her break a few of your bones. Then she'll fall down at your feet waiting for you to kill her, is that it?"

From her sudden gasp, he can tell that his words have hit their target. She grabs the training sword from his hand, lifts it over her head, swings it down at his head. And stops. They are frozen in place as the seconds pass, the bamboo rod cutting a harsh diagonal between their faces.

Finally, she drops it, and turns away. "I can't, Zoro," she whispers sadly. "I just can't."

"And you used to call _me_ weak." He storms off then, rounds a few corners, and finds he's not where he expected to be, because he's in some sort of garden. The flowers are wild and unkempt, but their blossoms are huge. Yellow butterflies weave in and out of his field of vision; he swats one out of the way, and that's the first time he sees Robin, whose stay has turned from a couple of nights to a couple of months.

"What do you want?" He's still holding the other practice sword. He wants to hit things with it, but he knows she's not an acceptable target for his rage.

"I need your help," she says, with an unreadable smile on her face.

"Are you sure you've got the right person?" he sneers. "Not going to get much help from the _cripple _here."

"You're Roronoa Zoro, aren't you?" she says.

He forgets about the butterfly for a moment, suddenly wary, and it flies straight into his face. Cheered by this success, the rest of the butterflies close in. Robin leans forward, still smiling, as though she finds it entertaining that he's fighting a swarm of butterflies and losing. She sits regally on the edge of a stone fountain that looks as though it hasn't seen water in years.

A thought seems to strike her. "What is your father's name?"

"None of your business!" The more he tries to wave the butterflies away, the more they seem attracted to him. One lands on his index finger. He gives it a hard shake, and the butterfly simply flaps its wings a bit to keep its balance.

"I'm simply curious. Were you named after your father? Ah, in other words, is there another Roronoa Zoro?"

"No," he says flatly. "I'm Zoro." The world's greatest can't be mistaken for someone else.

"I see."

He tries blowing on the butterfly perched on his finger, and miraculously it takes the hint and flies away. Encouraged by this success, he begins blowing at all the butterflies flying around his head, but their flight is erratic, and it's difficult to aim properly.

"Do you think it's the hair?" she suggests suddenly.

This gives him pause. "What? What hair?"

"Your hair is green," she points out reasonably. "Maybe they're attracted to it because they think it's some sort of plant?"

He's never been particularly self-conscious about his hair. Hair is hair, and it doesn't bother him if some people happen to have hair colors that are different from his. He's not offended by the remark, though the idea that his hair attracts butterflies seems extremely stupid. Still, it has to be worth a shot. The butterflies are getting seriously irritating, their brilliant wings occasionally edging close enough to brush over his cheek, scoring feathery touches no heavier than breaths. Grudgingly, he digs around in his pocket until he finds a black handkerchief, which he drapes over his head. To his shock, the butterflies disperse immediately.

"These butterflies are very common where I come from," Robin says, still smiling in a way that he realizes is quite smug. "Perhaps you should tie your bandana on, lest it fall off?"

There is the disconcerting sensation of hands growing out of the sides of his head. He's surprised but not alarmed; he won't allow this to put him off-balance. He allows the hands to gather the edges of the cloth and tie them back in a knot.

"What are you doing to me?" he asks, when the hands have retreated.

"You waited until I finished to wonder?"

"How did you do that?" he insists. "Can you teach me?"

"Teach you?" Robin looks surprised, as though no one has ever asked this of her. He doesn't understand why. Who wouldn't want an extra hand? He holds up his ruined left hand to demonstrate.

"If I could replace it—" Kuina would fight me properly again. I wouldn't have to rely on my right hand. I could continue my training to become the world's best.

"I'm sorry." Hands begin to sprout from Robin's body like a grotesque flower, running up her arm to her shoulder, fanning out and waving cheerily. He tries to find it within himself to be disturbed or frightened, but all he feels is jealous. She seems to be waiting for some sort of reaction, but all he can give is an uncomprehending scowl. She asks, "Have you ever heard of the Devil's Fruits?"

He shakes his head.

"Well then, I suppose I can only explain this as a… unique skill. I can't teach it, though I can—" She gestures vaguely with a hand, and an arm grows from his left shoulder. It takes the practice sword from his unresisting hand and uses it to make a few awkward swipes.

"You're awful," he asserts.

She tips the brim of her hat lower, but he can still see her wry quirk of a smile. "I don't have the training."

"Let go." He takes the sword from her. "I don't want you as my arm. I'm going back now."

"Please wait." Her voice is calm, as though there is no question of his refusal. "There's still something I wanted to talk to you about."

"What?" He's still young enough to believe that the whole world revolves around him, and he doesn't wonder why she would have anything to say to a little boy like him. He does wonder where the dojo is, though. The garden has too many exits: a definite flaw in the design.

"Do you believe in destiny?" she asks.

"Lady," he scoffs. "You're twice my age."

"Oh dear. I'm not _propositioning_ you, if that's what you think." She's still calm, maybe a little amused. "Although, for future reference, I'm only 19. Does the name 'Mr. 1' mean anything to you?"

He shakes his head. "Never heard of it."

She seems disappointed as she pulls out a slim, battered book, and opens it to one of the many marked pages. "Everything else seems to fit, though. The dojo in East Blue. Kuina." She flips a page. "What about _Wadou Ichimonji_? Does that name sound familiar?"

"Look, I have no idea what you're talking about."

She holds his gaze for a second longer, then shuts the book with a sigh. "My mistake. I apologize." She jumps lightly down from the fountain, no longer smiling. She's already left the garden by the time he remembers he meant to ask her which way the dojo was.

* * *

"One thousand," Kuina gasps, and falls to the grass. "It's over." 

"It's not over. It's a tie."

"A tie."

"You beat me one thousand times," he explains. "I beat you one thousand times. A tie."

She wipes sweat from her face, but doesn't move from her position, not even to look at him. "Is that it? You want to beat me once for every time I beat you—and once more?"

"No. I beat you once for every time you beat me. We're even. We're tied. None of our previous matches means anything anymore. Now we decide the victor with one last fight."

"You want to beat me one more time so you can say that you won completely? Fine." Kuina stands up, takes her sword.

"I want to end this," he corrects her. "I request one final duel, using real swords. This time decides everything—who wins or loses, lives or dies. You have one, don't you? A real sword."

She takes a long time to think about this. "If I hold back—" she begins.

"I'll kill you," he finishes, without hesitation. "Are you ready?"

She isn't.

"If you can kill me, then I might kill you too," she points out.

"Since you think I'm so useless anyway without my left hand, you'd probably be doing me a favor." He draws his swords, places one in his mouth. "The worst indignity you can do to your opponent is to cripple him and let him live. If I can't become the world's best without my hand, if you've really taken my dream away from me, then it's time for you to finish what you started. _Are you ready?_"

She still isn't.

* * *

He runs for the dojo afterwards, but somehow he finds himself off track. He slows as he enters the garden again; it looks different under the moonlight. The butterflies are all sleeping, presumably, but there's still the drone of insects in the grass. He can just make out Robin's figure, again at her seat on the fountain."How did it go?" she asks. 

"I killed her."

"Your blades are remarkably clean for that."

"She didn't bleed."

"What a mysterious death."

"Do you really think you only die when you stop breathing?" He sheathes his sword numbly, and takes the other sword from his mouth. "I started killing her when I let her hit my hand. I struck the fatal blow when I couldn't recover my fingers. I've been killing her all this time. Tonight, I finished it. She'll never fight again. She's dead."

"Do you think that there's a way to overcome death?" Robin asks.

"Dead is dead." He puts the other sword away. "What are you going to do, ask for an extension?"

"I believe that there is a way to beat death," says Robin. "And I believe that I can only do it with your help."

"Look, Lady, we already talked about this. I don't believe in destiny and you're way too old for me."

"And if there is a way?" she asks. She has that smile on again, like she knows exactly what's going to happen next, and she likes it. "Would you save Kuina if you could?"

She shows him a book called _Rising Dawn_. It looks like it's been passed down through generations since death was _invented_, so he supposes it's probably authentic enough. The pages are all loose and crinkly, and the leather cover is a web of cracks. She shows him pictures first, like a visual might help his comprehension: a woman with scarily realistic tentacles superimposed over her arms and legs; the head and shoulders of a man with three gold drops dangling from one ear, a black handkerchief tied over his green hair; a woman recognizable as Robin herself, though her smile looks decades older.

"This is great and all, but what does it have to do with me?" he asks.

She turns back to the octopus-woman, and he shivers when he sees it, just as he did the first time. She reads to him, like he's some illiterate toddler: "I believe that the only way to beat death is to kill this woman. Mr. 1 agrees."

"Who's Mr. 1?" he asks.

She points to a neat list by Mr. 1's name. Roronoa Zoro, Monkey D. Luffy, Das Bones. The names continue, but they're all crossed out under those three. Zoro's is the one that's circled.

"So you think I'm Mr. 1," he says. "Sorry to disappoint, but…"

"You didn't recognize yourself?" She returns to the picture of the green-haired man, who wears the sort of feral grin you'd normally expect on a shark. "This is you. I'd say you're about my age here. It says that you get lost a lot, enjoy alcohol, and use your own form of swordsmanship, Santouryuu."

"I'm eleven years old, Lady," he points out. "How does someone draw a picture of me at your age when I haven't gotten there yet?"

"Apparently the Great Captain Usopp-sama is a very talented artist. You've made a note of that here, though you sound slightly sarcastic."

"I've never seen this book in my life." He peers at the page anyway. It does look like his handwriting: a little less rough, the vowels slightly more round, but still familiar.

"I believe that we've been doing this for quite some time, Zoro. There are notes here from countless failed attempts. What do you say we try again? You save Kuina. I'll save Ohara. We can finally put an end to this cycle. Besides," ruefully, "this book doesn't look like it'll last much longer."

"I can't leave the dojo," he begins automatically, before he realizes that he really can. There is nothing for him here.

"You certainly can," Robin smiles. "If it's about sneaking out, I think the traditional strategy is to put a large root vegetable in your bed, cover it with blankets, and hope that it fools your parents."

"Because I look so much like a turnip?" he asks.

"I don't know," says Robin. "For some reason, I was thinking potatoes."

"I don't need any of that." He grins, and wonders if he looks like himself eight years in the future. "Let's go grill that octopus."

"Just to make sure," Robin says quickly, as she steps down from the fountain. "We're not actually going to _eat_—"

"That's disgusting, Lady." He wrinkles his nose. "Let's just do whatever the book says."

* * *

"By the way, Lady, who's Ohara?" 

"Ohara is an island. It's very beautiful, home to the ocean's finest library and a group of the world's greatest scholars. Eleven years ago, it was the target of a Buster Call but survived, thanks to a brave pirate who stepped in at the end. It is constantly under Marine attack even today, though the historians who live there only wish to preserve the past to pass on to future generations."

"You're going to make them immortal?"

"I just want to protect them from the attacks. Some say that another Buster Call has been approved. If Ohara dies, so will the history of the world."

"So you're taking me to an island that at any moment might be blown up by the Marines?"

"That's right."

"And basically there's a strong possibility we'll die before we see this octopus thing."

"There is that possibility, yes."

"You know how the book talked about Santouryuu?"

"Yes."

"I use Nitouryuu. I don't have the extra hand."

"I figured."

"Lady, do you want to learn how to hold a sword?"

* * *

Ohara is full of butterflies. Robin ties his bandana on for him. 

They are nearly too late. The last few hours of the boat ride are spent agonizing as they slip between Marine ships and head for shore.

Their opponent is kind enough to await them on the beach. They don't make an awesome sight, the pre-adolescent boy with a gimp hand and the young woman who stands behind him, holding a book. An extra arm sprouts from his shoulder, too pale and too slender for his body. He entrusts his third sword to her delicate fingers nonetheless, and crosses his two swords with hers. They practice their slow dance, and the only intimidating thing about them is how composed they are, warming up calmly in the face of their enemy.

"Don't be ridiculous," the octopus-woman says, in her voice like burnt liquid rubber. "How do you expect to fight like that? This is your weakest incarnation yet. I want to laugh. Can I laugh? I'm going to laugh."

She laughs.

They ignore her. They go through the motions they've rehearsed. They don't think they'll get a second chance if they miss the first time.

"Let me tell you something," she hisses. "You have no chance of winning. How long have you been practicing this act? Not long enough to work together. Not nearly long enough to fight as a team. Luckily you don't need any practice at all to die as a team."

"Hold on a moment, Zoro," Robin says, already out of stance. She's writing something in the book, furiously.

"What are you doing, Lady?!" he demands. "We're in the middle of the fight!"

"She gave us the answer. We have to work together, that's all there is to it. If we want to win, all we have to do is—"

Tentacles, coiling around, squeezing out air.

"Santouryuu," he calls out, as a cue to a partner he's not sure can hear. "Demon—"

"There's no way you can win like this. You should see how ridiculous the two of you look."

On a red horizon, the first ships approach.

Robin dangles limply from the tentacles' grasp, the book fallen out of her hands.

"—Slash!" he finishes anyway. His blades flash, and amazingly another one flashes along with his.

The octopus-woman's blood is hot and dark, but she's not dead, only injured. Zoro falls, falls, rolls and scrambles for the book. There's no time, he's seen what's coming. He picks up _Rising Dawn_ and begins to rip out pages, letting them fly into the wind like so many liberated birds.

"What are you doing?!" Robin crawls through the sand, while the octopus-woman laughs and laughs.

He leaves only the one page remaining, the one with the picture. He uses the only thing at hand to mark the octopus-woman's new scars: deep, red slashes across the torso, a handful of severed tentacles. He writes what he has learned, and the words blot out everything in the background, flowers and fountain and all. On a whim, he adds, "Lady made this one," and draws a crude arrow to one of the jagged torso cuts.

"Lady, the book," he calls over, "how do we make sure we get it again?"

"Throw it into the ocean," she yells back.

Then the island explodes.


	7. Sanji

_Note: It is suggested that you have read the mini-arcs on the manga chapter covers before you read this chapter. If you haven't, you will still understand the chapter, though you may wonder why the heck people are dressed in bizarre costumes._

* * *

//

* * *

Sanji tended to make his special drinks two at a time. It wasn't that he automatically duplicated Nami-san's beverage to give to Robin-chan or vice versa, because that would be unclassy and unthinkable. He adored them both, but in such different ways, and each creation was prepared especially for the intended recipient.

He hadn't been having a great day. First of all, he'd found that some idiot, who had been oh so difficult to identify, had decided to eat sugar straight from its container. To make matters worse, said unidentified idiot had left the cap off. Sanji had opened the sugar that morning to find it crawling with bugs. Not much bothered Sanji more than wasted food, but wasted ingredients was one of these things because it happened on the cook's side of the process, and not on the eater's. Sanji always took utmost care to keep his ingredients from spoiling; the sugar disaster had been his first since he'd boarded the Going Merry.

As punishment, Sanji had served Luffy absolutely flavorless pancakes, though he'd added milk and cream for the other crewmembers. Of course it didn't help that Luffy didn't mind at all. He had wolfed down his portion and asked for seconds before Sanji had even finished serving the first batch.

Once he had the galley to himself, Sanji decided that nothing would cheer him up more than to prepare cold beverages for his beloved (female) nakama. For Nami-san, he sliced the thinnest moons of lime into a tall glass, mixed orange juice and cherry, and topped it off with a dash of fresh grapefruit that was as red and ripe as her autumn hair. For Robin-chan, he warmed milk in the saucepan, whipped cream to the finest froth, and added bitter cocoa with a touch of mint for the cool breath of her smile.

Humming cheerily to himself, he loaded the tall glasses onto his customary tray and practically flew out onto the deck, twirling once in the sudden sunlight, and called, "Nami-swaan!"

And stopped.

Sanji took pride in his reflexes. Now, for instance, they were the only thing that saved him from blurting out the name of the dark, intriguing beauty who was not, presently, there.

Nami looked up at him curiously, though she took the glass with thanks. Sanji was left holding the extra beverage, caught red-handed in his mistake. He looked around wildly.

"Oi, Usopp!"

The sniper started at the growl in Sanji's voice. "Y…es…?" he asked, turning cautiously.

"Since you liked the drink so much yesterday, I brought you another one. Here." He thrust the cup at Usopp with a glower, tucked the tray against his waist, and strode back into the galley.

Luffy was inside.

As the already furious cook watched, Luffy stretched his mouth to absurd proportions, picked up the five-layer ice cream cake he'd somehow managed to extract from the refrigerator despite its thick padlock, and stuffed it in his gaping maw, hand and all. Apparently eagerness to begin eating made him too impatient to deal with tedious things like pulling his hand out of his mouth before he bit it, and he began to chew with a look of intense concentration on his face.

"LUFFY!"

Luffy bit down. "Ow!" He yanked out his hand, still flecked with cake and ice cream. He spared Sanji only a passing glance before he realized that there was still food to be eaten, which was far more important than dealing with irate cooks. He began to attempt to lick his hand clean with a tongue more cake-covered than his fingers.

"Luffy, do you realize that I am in charge of your meat supply?" Sanji realized suddenly that he'd bitten through his cigarette, and quickly ground out the lit half that had fallen to the floor.

"Oh, Sanji!" Luffy grinned widely, apparently having just noticed him there. "This is delicious! Got any more?"

"How did you think you were going to get away with stealing from my kitchen in the middle of the day?" Sanji demanded. His day just kept getting worse and worse.

"But you always stay out for _hours_ when you're bringing Nami and Robin drinks," Luffy protested. "How was I supposed to know you were going to come back so soon? I think you cheated."

Rather than responding, Sanji walked over to the counter and picked up a cleaver. "I don't use this on anything but food," he said pleasantly. "So I guess after I kill you, I'm going to have to cook you up."

Luffy backed towards the door with a squeak. "I, uh, I have to go now," he stammered, hands fumbling behind his back for the doorknob. For a harrowing instant, Sanji pictured the knowing expressions on Nami-san, Usopp, and Chopper's faces.

"Wait!" Luffy had managed to crack the door open all of an inch before Sanji slammed it shut with a foot. "Don't open that door!"

"But I don't want to be cooked," Luffy whined. "You'll make me really delicious and then everyone will eat me."

Sanji considered his options. If Luffy tasted like rubber, he could always mask the flavor with grilled onions, sun-dried tomatoes, and a twist of pepper. On the other hand, the ship probably wouldn't sail far without the stupid captain and his too-stupid-to-lose way of dealing with all their problems.

"Fine," he sighed finally. "I won't roast you over a slow fire with peppers. But don't open that door for a while. And don't move. In fact, I want you to sit in that corner, facing the wall, and if your hand stretches over here I _will_ make sure it never comes back. Am I clear?"

"Yessir," Luffy mumbled, breathing a sigh of relief as Sanji put the knife away. "By the way, can I have some meat?"

"NO."

"Stingy."

Sanji tried to ignore Luffy as he began to prepare their dinner. He couldn't go outside and face Nami and Usopp, and there wasn't much else to do now that the dishes were washed and all perishable ingredients carefully checked and rechecked. At least making the familiar motions of cooking was soothing in its repetitiveness. By the time he had finished dicing the onions, he was feeling calm again.

"Luffy." He checked over his shoulder. Miraculously, Luffy hadn't moved from his spot at the wall. He was sitting with his arms curled around his knees, head down. Sanji only hoped the boy wasn't plotting something. "Luffy, since you have nothing better to do, why don't you peel these for me."

"Huh?" Luffy looked up, blinked. For a moment, he looked disoriented, as if interrupted from a dream. Then he seemed to light up in recognition of his surroundings. "Ooh, these look tasty!" he said, bounding over and taking the bowl.

"_Peel_ them," Sanji ordered. "If you eat them raw you'll give yourself a stomach ache."

"Stomach ache?" Luffy tilted his head.

"…Never mind. Sit at the table. Here's the peeler."

Sanji diced the tomatoes next, listening to make sure Luffy wasn't doing anything absurd.

"Chopper told me about what happened in the cave," he began conversationally, after a few moments had passed in silence. He had grown up on the Baratie, where more than twenty cooks worked together in the same kitchen, chatting side by side as they chopped and gutted, grilled and steamed. Even now, he always found himself more talkative when he was cooking. Some habits were hard to break.

"Oh yeah, you were sleeping," Luffy giggled.

"I wasn't sleeping! Ah, but Nami-san is so wonderfully dominating! Who can help but succumb when a goddess commands?"

"Goddess?"

Sanji could picture the head-tilt again. He sighed. "Never mind, you wouldn't understand. I heard what you told Chopper the night we got back, too," he added, as he began to grind the pepper.

"Oh." A pause. "What did I say again?"

"You said you were sure Zoro and Robin-chan would come back."

"Oh yeah. I remember that."

"You also told us to sail on without them," Sanji continued, hardly sure where he was going with this himself. It was just the logical progression of things, like the dough and then the butter and then the filling. "It was the middle of the night, but you said we shouldn't wait."

"Oh yeah. I remember that too. I was bored."

"You really believe in that stupid marimo, do you?"

"Yeah. I do."

"You're sure he and Robin-chan will be back, are you?"

"Yeah. I am."

"It was a good thing that you said to Chopper." Sanji thought about the reindeer applauding as Usopp painted Zoro's makeshift swords, with surprising attention to detail. "It really cheered him up."

"Yeah. He needed it."

"Someone needs to believe." Sanji lit the stove. "It helps the rest of us."

"Good," said Luffy. Sanji could tell he'd stopped peeling. "That's what a captain does. He believes in his nakama. He makes sure his nakama believe in each other too."

"Mm. Well, dinner's not for a few hours." Sanji half turned, but stopped short of looking directly at his captain. It would have been a little like looking directly at the sun, a little like looking at the needle even though you knew it would only hurt more. He turned back to the stove. "You probably won't last until then. I'll cook you some meat."

"Thank you, Sanji."

As the faint, regular sound of the peeler picked up behind him, Sanji shrugged and washed his hands carefully. Without another word, he began to prepare Luffy's next snack.

* * *

"Sanji, Luffy!" As he entered the kitchen, the first thing Usopp did was discreetly put two glasses in the sink. Then he continued his announcement, "We saw a Marine ship coming. Not that the great Captain Usopp can't take them all easily, but if you men want to serve as back up to his force of 8000, he would not mind. At all."

"A Marine ship?" Sanji asked. "What do they—"

"Cool! That sounds interesting!" Luffy burst out of the kitchen, meat in hand.

"They're not really attacking us just now," Usopp explained hurriedly. "They might not even have seen us yet."

"Huh. Well, I'd rather not let this soup burn." Sanji gave it a careful stir. "Let me know if I'm needed."

Usopp nodded and headed back out, fitting his goggles over his eyes as he went.

A few minutes later, he identified Nami-san's angelic voice: "All right, they've definitely seen us by now. We're turning—"

"H-h-hold on. They're not Marines."

"Ehhh? Let me see, let me see. Hey, it's the snot guy! Why's he dressed like a fireman? Is there a fire?"

"What? It can't be—"

"Kyahahaha!"

Sanji paused. That had not been Nami-san's voice. He tried to picture a lovely lady to suit that voice, then decided he'd better go see for himself. He took the pot off the stove, set the lid on, and exited.

There was indeed a lovely flower perched on the railing, wearing a lemon-print bandana and large lemon earrings. She was holding a large chocolate cake in the air. Not for much longer, Sanji thought wryly to himself, in that distant part of his brain that wasn't overwhelmed by her lemony beauty.

"Who are you?" Nami-san demanded wonderfully, when it became apparent that Luffy was too busy drooling to ask.

"I'm the Chocolate Lady, kyahahaha!"

"Wow!" Luffy said, around a mouthful of cake. "This is almost as good as Sanji's!"

Chocolate Lady stared at him. "Hey, aren't you—?" Then she looked at her plate. "You took my cake!"

"You're the Chocolate Lady, right? Why don't you just make more?"

"Wait a moment," Usopp announced, aiming his slingshot at Chocolate Lady with trembling fingers. "Aren't you Miss Valentine?"

"How dare you aim your weapon at a lady, Usopp?" Sanji strode forward, fully intending to knock it out of his hand.

"She sat on me!" Usopp protested, not taking his eyes off her. "She sat on me, slowly increasing her weight, intending to crush me slowly and cruelly to death. The great Captain Usopp lay there in great pain as the breath was slowly pressed out of him. Was this the end for our great hero? Just then—"

"Hold it," Sanji interrupted. "How could this delicate flower possibly crush you?"

"What happened next, Usopp?" Chopper asked, tearfully tugging at Usopp's shirt. "Did you escape? Did you die?"

"Kyahahaha!" laughed Miss Valentine, like the clearest of crystal bells. "I ate the Kilo Kilo Fruit. I can change my weight at will!" All at once she stopped talking, suddenly seeming to realize that she was alone on a hostile ship with nothing but an umbrella and a plate of chocolate crumbs with which to defend herself. She glanced nervously over her shoulder at the approaching Marine ship.

"Are those the other Baroque Works agents too?" Nami-san asked, making the clever deduction as always. "What do you want?"

"Ohhh?" Luffy stretched his head up to see over Miss Valentine. "Is Bon Clay there too?"

"Kyahahaha! Bon Clay just saved us from the Marines. He got caught though."

"He saved you?" asked Luffy. "So you're good guys?"

Nami took Luffy by the ear the moment he snapped his head back down. "Mr. 2 is one of the bad guys," she reminded him firmly.

"No, he's good," Luffy protested. Chopper vehemently agreed.

It was at this point that the Marine ship, holding five former Baroque Works Officer Agents, pulled up along the Going Merry.

* * *

The six Baroque Works agents and five Strawhat pirates had found seats on and around the Going Merry's deck. Considering that half of them had recently fought the other half in major, life-and-death battles, the atmosphere was unsurprisingly tense. Sanji didn't recognize any of these people; if he'd met them before, it was probably only in passing. He was making up for missed opportunities by trying to strike up conversation with Miss Valentine, who ignored him.

A lovely blue-haired lady had taken a seat next to Nami-san, who glowered in a wonderful way. "You—"

"My name is Paula," she provided helpfully. "I run a café. Well, I ran one, anyway."

"You're Miss Doublefinger!" said Nami-san. "That bandana's not fooling anyone."

"I do prefer Paula."

"You tried to stick me full of spikes!"

"Well, yes, and you electrocuted me," Paula noted calmly. "Considering you walked away afterwards and I didn't, I don't see why you're complaining."

Sanji remembered a bleeding, battle-worn Nami-san being carried by that shitty swordsman (who definitely had not deserved to bear her splendor upon his filthy shoulders). Her clothes had been torn, and her reddened cheeks had only drawn attention to her panting lips… So this blue-haired beauty had been her opponent at that time. Sanji could only imagine the fight that had taken place. Was there mention of spikes? And electricity? "Ah, so wonderful," he murmured, quickly becoming a happy pile of goo.

"Can it!" Nami-san ordered.

"Yes, Nami-swan!"

"And you, don't pick your nose!" Nami-san added.

The fireman hesitated, one finger up his nose.

"Oh yeah," Luffy said. "You can make your snot explode! That was so cool! Can you do it again?"

"NO." Nami-san jumped up. She was so wonderful when she was being commanding. "There will be no explosions! There will be no spikes! There will be no painting and no crushing and no… no…" She waved a hand vaguely at a woman with frazzled hair wearing an oversized princess dress and a fat guy carrying four boxes of pizza. "No whatever it is you people do."

"Mr. 4 hits exploding baseballs," Usopp volunteered. "And Miss Merrychristmas turns into a penguin."

"Mole," Chopper corrected, in a small voice.

"Thank you, Usopp and Chopper. No doing any of that. Don't forget that you've all been beaten up by one of us at one point or another, so don't try anything. Oh, and if that candle guy is here too, we're throwing him off the boat!"

"Mr. 3 got captured too," said a little girl wearing an obviously fake mustache. "I think they're going to send him to Impel Down."

"It'll be okay, Miss," Sanji comforted, standing up to attention. "How about I make you something to eat?"

"Can I have rice crackers?" she asked.

"Of course! Just follow me—"

"Hold it!" Nami-san interrupted. Instantly all eyes turned to her. She was such a natural leader. "I haven't finished with you lot yet, and that means that no one's going off anywhere alone. Especially not you." She pointed a finger at the girl with the mustache. "Do you think we've forgotten what you did? Do you think Luffy's forgotten?"

"Eh?" Luffy stopped chewing on his meat for a moment. "Who is she?"

"It's Miss Goldenweek," Nami-san snapped. "She painted on you so you couldn't save us from that wax set thing!"

Sanji's heart went out to this beautiful, capable woman who had to take care of all the various male idiots on the ship. If there was anything he could do to ease her burden…

"Sanji-kun," Nami-san said sweetly. "_Sit back down_."

"Yes, Nami-swan! Whatever you say!" Sanji sat.

"Now, let's get this straight." Nami-san continued. "What do you all want?"

"We're not here to attack you," Paula said, tough Nami-san looked like this was the last person she wanted an answer from. "We escaped from the Marines. We just need some supplies."

"And you thought we were some weak sailors you could easily take advantage of, is that right?"

"Something like that," Paula agreed easily, with a sweet smile.

"Not a problem!" Sanji volunteered. "Why don't I take some of you to the galley and we can see what supplies I can give you? Miss Valentine, is it? I have a suggestion for your cake. And Paula-san, you said you ran a café? I'd be honored to compare recipes with you."

"Stop flirting with the girls, Sanji," said Nami-san, but it was too late. Luffy and Chopper were already playing with the tank-dog, and Usopp had hesitantly asked Miss Goldenweek about her painting techniques.

"Don't worry, Nami-swan!" Sanji called, unable to resist lending succor in the face of her distress. "I'll save you some chocolate!"

Nami had a wonderfully strong fist, too.

* * *

"It's just that we don't really know what to do now," Paula murmured over a cup of hot chocolate. She was sitting across from Miss Valentine at the galley trestle. Mr. 5 had, for whatever reason, followed Miss Valentine, and was sitting next to her. He had no hot chocolate, but he hadn't yet complained.

"What would you like to do, Paula-san?" Sanji put the finishing touches on his cake, which he delivered to Miss Valentine with a bow. He received melodious laughter for his efforts, and took care not to swoon.

"There aren't that many options open to a former secret agent, now that Baroque Works is gone." Paula slowly stirred the contents of her cup. "There aren't many lines of work that ask for the ability to grow spikes out of your body."

"Your Devil's Fruit powers don't determine what you do," Sanji said. "Otherwise so many Devil's Fruit users wouldn't become pirates and Marines. Doesn't it depend on what you want?"

Nami-san wandered in, casting a critical eye over the occupants of the table. Sanji instantly offered her an eager wave, which she chose not to acknowledge.

"I also wish Mr. 1 had left with us rather than staying in prison," Paula added with a sigh. "The Officer Agent pairs form very close relationships. You learn to bear the responsibility for another life, and in turn you learn to entrust your safety and well being to your partner. After all this time…" She trailed off, and glanced across the table at Miss Valentine and Mr. 5. "You two are very lucky."

After such a heartfelt confession, there was only one thing Sanji felt he could do. He got down on one knee before the blue-haired beauty. "I'll be your partner, Paula-san! Just call me… Mr. Prince!"

Nami-san moved with astonishing agility to hit him in the head. "Don't worry, Nami-swan!" he assured her, "I'll be your partner too!"

"Didn't you say you ran a café, Paula?" Nami-san asked sweetly.

"Yes, I did. Spider's Café." Though his head was crushed under Nami-san's powerful fist, Sanji could hear the wistful smile in Paula's voice. He longed to jump up and soothe away her sorrows, but it was rather wonderful being punched by Nami-san too.

"Well, why don't you go back to that?" Nami-san suggested.

"Nami-swan is so brilliant as always!" Sanji cheered, though he realized his voice might have been a bit muffled.

"It's in Arabasta," Paula said. "I'm sure it's been closed down, now that people know it was the meeting place of Baroque Works."

"Well, why don't you start a new one?" Nami-san suggested. "With such an interesting group of nakama, I'm sure you'd have more than enough help."

"Start a new one?" Paula repeated, and seemed to consider it. "A new Spider's Café. Hmm."

It was a pleased sort of 'Hmm.' Sanji could tell, being a long-time connoisseur of these. He only wished that he could have been the one to elicit it from Paula, but as Nami-san was incredibly intelligent, he supposed it couldn't be helped.

"Talk to the others. Think on it," Nami-san added. "But don't leave just yet! Sanji-kun here is going to treat you all to dinner."

"With pleasure, Nami-swan!"


	8. Death 3000

Soft laughter filling in gaps between the clink of teeth and crystal stemware. Decorative lights hanging between the blades of still fans. Little flames dancing on soft-waxed candles in round fat jars. Cool jazz fluted through speakers hidden among lush plants.

Spider's Café, a soulless place.

She likes it here.

She lays the glossy photos out in front of her. Mr. 0 gave her no names; he expects her to be capable of producing at least that much—and how? It isn't like there's some huge pirate database where she can just plug in pictures, punch a few buttons, and get a ticker tape of results. She doesn't frustrate easily, though; for now she merely arranges and rearranges the photos, as though touching and moving them might reveal some tactile insight into the people pictured.

A blond man is the new Mr. 2. She inspects one curled eyebrow and the glowing end of his cigarette for some sort of hint. He requested a specific partner, and although approval is still pending, she places the picture of a sly-looking redhead next to him. Finding no real clues in their youthful faces, she turns to the new Mr. 3, a tanned boy with a rather prominent nose that he proudly displays. In the picture, for whatever reason, his pet reindeer is looking into the camera with murderous rage in its eyes, an expression not normally associated with herbivores. Though it's normal policy to reassign the Misses when their male partners have been replaced, she places Miss Goldenweek's picture next to the boy and the reindeer, because Mr. 0 seems to operate on whim sometimes, and there have yet to be complaints, at least ones that can't be silenced. The list continues, but the other Officer Agents are the same. She glosses over Mr. 4, Mr. 5, and their respective partners, only pausing to recall that Mr. 4 has a pet as well. She wonders if that's a new thing.

Ah, and then, of course, there's the new Mr. 14. The picture shows a scrawny black-haired boy, grinning radiantly despite having placed only one provisionary spot above the Millions and Billions. Unless the straw hat covers an impressive set of horns, she really can't imagine what Mr. 0 was thinking when he made this assignment. She puts Miss Doublefinger's picture down beside Mr. 14's, and wonders if this is Mr. 0's idea of a joke. Even without the height difference, the two of them make a terrible pair.

As the café's door swings open to admit one swaggering body, she slides the photos back into their envelope and returns to the one she's studied and memorized. As he walks by her table, she checks discreetly for pets, and is relieved not to find any. She clears her throat.

"Congratulations on your promotion, Mr. 1. I hear that you and your friends left a rather impressive swath of destruction in your wakes?"

His steps slow as he turns. He is unhurried and unsurprised.

"Miss All-Sunday," he acknowledges, with a nod. She notes how he limits his check of their surroundings to a cursory sweep around the room, a split-second flickering of the eyes. Wariness without discretion is called paranoia, after all, while discreet paranoia is known as being cautious. He seems a cautious person.

He sits, takes a moment to get comfortable before looking her over.

"Mr. 1, huh? Is that what they're calling me now?" There's a slow grin coming over his face, like an avalanche, like the first stirrings of a tornado. "I hope you guys aren't making the nameplate yet, because you know I'm after spot zero."

Not so cautious after all, perhaps.

"Should you be telling me this?" she asks, finding her drink and taking a careful sip. Minty, with a hint of chocolate. Maybe a little too sweet, but she watched its preparation herself, from the bottle to the pan to the glass. Just in case.

"You're here to spy me out for the boss, right?" He rests his elbows on the polished table surface. "You might as let him know I'm out for his head. Sorry for the demotion, by the way."

"Demotion?"

"From partner of the boss to partner of the bossed? I'd count that as a demotion."

"Not at all. I was paired with Mr. 0 so he could always keep an eye on me. Now I'm to keep an eye on you. I'd count that an improvement."

"Should you be telling _me_ that?" He raises a strangely pale hand to flag down a waiter, then pauses. "By the way, you said something earlier about my friends? Who exactly are you talking about?"

"Don't tell me you weren't a part of it? That would too much of a coincidence."

"Part of what?" he asks.

"If you don't know, I really shouldn't tell you." She hands him a menu. "Why don't you order a drink instead?"

"I'll take rum," he says, handing the menu over to the waiter without looking. "Listen, I'm not interested in the politics or whatever of Baroque Works. I'm a pretty straightforward guy. The only reason I want to take out the boss is because I don't like answering to anyone else."

"And me?" She wants to dismiss her first impression of him as watchful and cautious, except she's seen how his eyes track everything that moves, like a predator.

"You?"

"Apparently you rejected every partner who was suggested to you. And here you have me."

"How do you know I wasn't aiming for you in the first place?"

For a moment she's startled, and there's the white flash of his victory grin.

"That's a point for me," he says. He leans back and lazily takes a swig of his rum. She's pretty sure he hasn't checked it at all for doctoring; she could've bribed the busboy for all he knows. What a confident, foolish man.

"I hadn't realized we were playing," she says carefully, ghosting a question mark onto the end of her sentence.

"Oh, everyone's playing, Miss All-Sunday," he assures her, as he takes another drink. "The only ones who don't play anymore are the ones who've lost."

* * *

"Why do you think Baroque Works does this? Pairs up every guy with a girl, I mean." He takes a swill of his drink. He has rum again, she has coffee. Depressant versus stimulant: she's amused by the idea that his drink will slow him down, while hers will pick her up. It hasn't worked yet, unfortunately. 

"Why, it's to make babies, of course," she responds, straight faced, and enjoys his sudden sputters. "We need to think of the next generation of Baroque Works employees, the ones who will take over after we're gone. I believe I get a point, by the way."

"Got me there," he concedes, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He's gotten a slight lead over the past two weeks, thanks to the discovery that a well-delivered pick-up line can make her blush every time. She's catching up quickly though, now that she understands the game and how it works, when it can and can't be called into play.

"Though I have to wonder," she says, picking up in the middle of her train of thought. "Isn't this game too easy a cover for something else?" After only scant weeks, she enjoys not having to explain where she's coming from, because it's likely he's already thought it too.

"Got me there too," he grins. "But what you haven't got is what I'm covering up. Looks like I still win."

She rewinds to their first conversation, tries to remember the first mention of points. She smiles. "To the contrary: I've 'got' that as well. Why were you aiming for me, Mr. 1? Why were you hoping to be paired with me?"

The mark of a true competitor is being happy to take a loss. Mr. 1 leans in, looking pleased that she's proved herself a fair match, at least in his eyes. In hers he's nowhere near her level, but she won't tell him that. "You're looking for it too, aren't you?"

"Looking for what?"

"Don't know," he laughs. "But it's important. I want it so bad I can taste it. And you're the key."

"Is it a book?" she suggests. "I have a lot of books."

"Nah, it's not a book. It's not something you have, or you wouldn't want it like I do. I've never seen anyone else who was after it too. As long as I stick with you, I know I'm going to get it." He takes a long, considering drink, then amends, "That or die trying."

"So you're saying you want something, but you don't know what it is. You think I want it too, so you're just going to keep me in your sight, hoping to get it."

"Yeah, that's about it."

She stops to think about this. Then she extends a hand and a smile. "I never formally invited you to Baroque Works, partner. Let's get started on our assignment."

* * *

The city of water fortunately keeps its sidewalks dry. Trying to run without slipping would have been a nightmare otherwise. 

"By the way, I like how everyone and his pigeon here is after you," Mr. 1 comments, as they take to the rooftops.

"I find your one devotee quite touching as well," she replies, taking his offered hand up though she could just as easily have given herself one.

"Uh huh," he says. "And whose pursuers are slicing apart buildings, and whose one pursuer is stumbling around without her glasses?"

"True, but it's only a matter of time before she calls in cigar-wielding reinforcements. Not that way." She taps his shoulder with a hand grown from his back. "Over here."

He shrugs and turns, used to following her directions by now. Behind him, there is a cry of, "Feeling SUPA! Aoow!"

"One of yours?" he suggests, as he catches up to her.

"He doesn't look much like a carpenter," she points out. "Maybe your friend has more friends?"

"Not outside of the Marines, she doesn't. Where are the other Agents waiting again?"

"At the dock. Mr. 2 called me earlier to relay our new instructions. We're going to be investigating a certain boat Mr. 0 is interested in."

"What, all of us?"

"Apparently it's haunted."

"So he needs ten Officer Agents to take care of some ghosts?"

"Twelve, actually. And a dog and a reindeer."

"Oh good. I was hoping for a full circus."

"There's the boat. Let's go."

"Which one? The green one?"

"No, the one with the Marine flag."

"Figures," he laughs. "They've pulled the ladder up. Are we going to jump?"

"At the edge," she agrees.

"Goodbye, Water 7," he calls with a jaunty wave. "Sorry to have wasted your time, but apparently the boss doesn't care about you anymore. See you around."

"I sincerely doubt that."

They both leap onto the boat, automatically positioning their backs to each other as they make sure nothing's out of place. She notes the 2, 3, 4 and 5 pairs, the aforementioned pets, as well as—

"Who's the kid in red?" Mr. 1 asks.

"Mr. 14. My partner," Miss Doublefinger dismisses, stepping forward. "How do you do, Mr. 1."

He shrugs at her. "Still hurting a little, if it makes you feel any better. Took me a hell of a long time to learn how to cut steel. He nearly got me with the blender attack."

"Blender attack," she murmurs, as the boat leaves harbor. "Charming."

Miss All-Sunday knows her partner. She knows that he is the epitome of arrogance. He leans now against the railing, and the way his hands aren't even close to his swords is a studied insult.

"Where's Vivi," Mr. 14 suddenly whines. "I wanted her to see when we beat up the bad guys."

Miss All-Sunday looks up.

"Vivi-chan already saw the most important part," Mr. 2 cuts in. "This is just clean-up."

Highly suspicious. Miss All-Sunday exchanges a look with Mr. 1, who nods back at her grimly. They inch towards each other, and she puts a hand her to his head, as though smoothing out his hair. Before he can bite her hand off, which she can tell he has half a mind to do, she grows a mouth on her palm and cups it over his ear.

"Three new Officer Agents were promoted on the same day as you, as well as Mr. 14. They're all here now. Miss Doublefinger isn't one of them. Neither are the 4 and 5 pairs, nor Miss Goldenweek."

He shakes off her hand, but she knows he heard, and hazards a guess at his thoughts: '2-to-1 odds, what are they going to try?' She watches his hand inch closer to his swords, though. Cautious, after all.

She remembers their first conversation, and suddenly realizes what she just said. Mr. 1 was promoted on the same day as the others. Shouldn't that make him a prime suspect for involvement in whatever plot this is?

Idly, she wonders why it's taken her this long to make that connection. She watches his left hand settle on the omnipresent swords—to defend his partner, or to betray? She should be more worried than she is, but instead she feels strangely calm. Not for the first time, she notices that his left hand is a few shades lighter than the rest of him. If it weren't for the lack of stitches around his wrist, she'd suspect him of being a transplantee, but the skin is too smooth for it to be someone else's hand. The two hands, mismatched though they are, go up to remove his bandana, which he ties over his head with slow, deliberate motions.

"Butterflies?" she asks. Mr. 2 and 3 are both watching, as is Mr. 3's pet.

"Point for you," he grins. "Are we doing this?"

She turns her back to him. "I probably should point out that we won't have an excuse if it turns out we guessed wrong. We can't exactly say we wanted their positions."

"We can say they wanted ours." Mr. 1 backs up until his shoulder blades touch hers. If they were as sharp as the blades at his side, she muses, she'd be dead for trusting him.

"What exactly is going on?" Miss Doublefinger asks.

Mr. 2 drops down to a crouch. Miss All-Sunday has heard that his kicks are terrifying. What she didn't expect were the hearts in his eyes.

"Watch me, Nami-swaaaan!" he proclaims. "Your noble partner will now fight with love!"

"Really?" says Mr. 14. "Is it time to fight already?" He bounces over eagerly, though it's hard to picture him doing any damage.

Mr. 2's partner, who is apparently called Nami-swaan, pulls out three tubes, which she joins together with practiced motions. Even Mr. 3's pet reindeer clip-clops over to join the others. Only Mr. 3 doesn't stand with his comrades. He's looking out over the sea, adjusting the funny lenses he pulled over his eyes earlier.

"H-h-hold on, don't fight!" he stammers. "It's… It's Merry!"

"Merry?" The reindeer speaks, starting a yell from Mr. 1.

"Already?" asks Nami-swan. The would-be betrayers of one of the Grand Line's biggest secret organizations suddenly seem to lose interest. They join Mr. 3 at the railing, where they look eagerly towards a growing speck on the horizon.

"I thought we were going to take care of these guys before we got to Merry?" Mr. 2 asks.

"We shouldn't be there yet," Nami-swan says. Watching their dialogue is like watching a play. They fire off their parts in rapid succession, as easily as though rehearsed. "I don't understand—"

"It's Merry." Mr. 3.

"We get that, thank you." Nami-swan.

"Don't say such obvious things to Nami-swan!" Mr. 2.

"No, I mean, Merry is the reason." Mr. 3.

"Of course Merry's the reason. That's why we're going back, right?" Mr. 14.

"No! I mean, Merry is the reason we're already there! Merry's moving! Merry's coming for us!" Mr. 3.

"Merry is…?" The reindeer. (Mr. 1 jumps again at hearing an animal talk.

"Can I get a point for that?" Miss All-Sunday asks.

"NO.")

"I thought we were fighting?" Mr. 1 sounds disappointed. The reason he enjoys losing once in a while is for the challenge. Having his opponents just walk away is no challenge at all.

"Oh yeah. What should we do about them?" Mr. 14 jerks a thumb over his shoulder.

"We should probably beat them, but it's Merry…"

They're pulling up alongside a small caravel with a goat's head. As they watch, the smaller boat begins quaking in the water.

"Haunted, huh?" Mr. 1 glances quickly over his shoulder at her. "Interested?"

"What about the people betraying our organization?" she puts in.

"Not too loyal to this organization myself," says Mr. 1. She can tell he's already sizing up the jump. "From the sounds of it, boss-man's already dead."

Mr. 1 and Miss All-Sunday make their second wild leap over the ocean. They land safely on the small boat just as Mr. 14 stretches out an arm to ridiculous lengths, wraps it around all the other occupants of the Marine vessel, loyal Baroque Works employees or not, and sweeps them all aboard.

"Yup!" Mr. 14 says happily. "We beat him up. Wanna come see our ship?"

"Luffy," Nami-swan says irritably. "They're already _on_ our ship."

"This is your ship?" Miss All-Sunday studies the sun-bleached railings, the water-warped planks composing the deck. "It looks a little… out of use."

"We had to leave Merry because of the scary octopus. And because we had to beat up Crocodile. But now we're back!"

"Octopus?" Miss All-Sunday repeats. When she looks carefully over the railing, she realizes that there are tentacles snaking up the bottom of the boat, and that these tentacles are causing the boat to rock.

"Octopus?" Mr. 1 says as well. When he looks at Miss All-Sunday, his face seems unnaturally pale, but then she realizes that hers probably is too.

"Hey, everyone, wanna help us beat up the octopus?" Mr. 14 asks. Disgruntled Baroque Works agents are slowly picking themselves up off the deck. They don't look particularly happy with Mr. 14's method of transportation.

She's not sure what would have happened, if things were allowed to run their course. Instead, the octopus sweeps up onto deck. It is enormous and disgusting, and the vessel's tiny width can barely contain the octopus's bulk within its railings.

"Wasn't she supposed to be an octopus?" Mr. 1 asks, and Miss All-Sunday wonders what he's seeing.

"Wasn't it supposed to be a woman?" she returns, and they look at each other again.

Mr. 14 stretches both arms all the way back, in a move that looks like the beginning of an attack. Mr. 2 takes a running head start and leaps into the air. Nami-swan is spinning two of her blue tubes, to no obvious effect, but when Miss All-Sunday looks up, she sees a suspicious storm cloud forming in an otherwise clear sky. Mr. 3 is holding a slingshot with slightly trembling fingers. His pet reindeer has transformed into a gorilla.

For some reason, Miss Goldenweek is mixing her paints, though she must know that her partner was previously planning to betray her. But as Miss All-Sunday looks around the deck, she realizes that everyone is joining in. Miss Merrychristmas has turned into a mole, and Miss Doublefinger into a blue porcupine. Mr. 4 is taking his time hefting his bat, whilst Mr. 5 picks his nose. At first she doesn't see Miss Valentine, but then Mr. 1 nudges her shoulder and jerks his chin upward. She can just see a yellow figure floating by the newly formed cloud, laughing as she clings to her umbrella.

"Why are they all fighting too?" Miss All-Sunday asks, as she and Mr. 1 back off to the side.

"Maybe they all just want to fight something," he suggests, like he knows that feeling well.

"Or maybe it just feels like what they have to do," she says, and she knows _that _feeling well. The eleven of them are all spread out around the giant octopus. Then, at an unknown signal, they all come together, like an explosion in reverse.

She can hardly pick out a single distinct attack name as they all hit at once. For a moment, she's seeing a different boat. The same people are all in the same places, using the exact same attacks, but though they look no different, she suddenly knows them. The boat under her feet is the Going Merry, and it is no longer the dilapidated ghost ship they boarded, but the brave vessel that has carried them to the sky and back.

And then she is standing next to Mr. 1 again. There's no need to ask if he's seen; she simply crosses her arms over her chest, closes her eyes, and listens for the metallic ring of katana being drawn from their sheaths. A hundred flowers burst from the deck to grasp at the octopus from beneath. She can feel the wind on her fingers as three blades cut dangerously close.

"Miss All-Sunday?" he asks, standing.

"Mr. 1?"

Pause.

"Robin."

"Swordsman-san," she agrees.

"You should see this." He waves her over.

She walks to where he stands over the corpse of the octopus. As she looks into the clean cut, she can hear the buzzing of voices all around her, but they seem to grow more and more distant as she peers down, as though in looking she is falling, and once she falls back in there will be no need to get out again.

In the slit belly of the octopus, she can see herself, hair fanned out around her head, arms still crossed over her chest. Next to her is Zoro, lying awkwardly on his left hand, probably crushing it under his own weight. His right hand is still clenched triumphantly around his precious white katana, though, and the two of them are wearing identical expressions of victory.


	9. Luffy

Maybe it was the shock. For some reason, Luffy found his nakama all standing around the defeated octopus, staring down at it with varying degrees of puzzlement and awe on their faces, as though inspecting some Mystery Artwork that they didn't get. As far as abstract art went, Luffy couldn't imagine that octopus guts held much appeal.

"Hmm," said Nami, putting a hand on her chin. "Now this is interesting."

"That looks a lot like—" Usopp began.

"Robin," Chopper said, brows furrowed. "And Zoro. Were they in here all along?"

Luffy's head jerked up. His ears twitched; being made of rubber, this made for quite a sight.

"What, so the marimo was useless after all," Sanji sighed. "Turns out all we had to do was kill the octopus."

"ZORO?" Luffy recognized that nickname. He ran over, waving his arms in Sanji's face. "DID YOU SAY ZORO? AND ROBIN?" Sanji ignored him, so Luffy glanced into octopus for his own answer. "ZORO! ROBIN! YOU'RE BACK!"

"They look like they might be hurt. Should I get a doctor?" Chopper paused. "Oh wait, I'm the—"

"WE NEED TO GET MEAT," said Luffy urgently. "WE NEED TO HAVE A PARTY!"

"Uh, no, actually, I don't think that's our first priority," Usopp said.

"Chopper, maybe you should make sure they're all right?" Nami suggested. "They look a little pale."

"Yeah, we probably should," said Chopper, who didn't move.

"THEY'RE OKAY, AREN'T THEY?" Luffy ran over to Chopper, and stretched his neck down until he could look Chopper straight in the face. Chopper glanced at him briefly, then looked back at the ruins of the octopus.

"You know, just when we were about to attack," Nami began. "It seemed like…"

"Yeah, now that you mention it," said Sanji.

"The octopus-woman tried to move out of the way," Chopper agreed.

"But then it suddenly stopped," Usopp finished. "And all our attacks hit."

"WHO CARES?" said Luffy, running up to push his face into Usopp's.

"It's just something to think about," Usopp continued stolidly, ignoring the way Luffy's face was pressed so close it bent his long nose to the side.

"Miss Goldenweek?" Nami asked, turning to the girl in question. "Did you use your Colors Trap on the octopus?"

She shook her head. "I used it on Captain Usopp."

"Oh, did you?" Nami asked. "I think I should be yelling at you for attacking Usopp, but I'm still a little," she waved her hands vaguely at the octopus carcass, "you know."

"It was nothing like that," said Usopp, backing up from Luffy for a bit of breathing space, so to speak. "It was just a little, uh, here." He turned to show Nami his back.

"Colors Trap - Purple of Courage," Miss Goldenweek explained. "Would you like one too?"

"She doesn't need one!" Usopp interjected hurriedly. "Although… do you think there's any way to make mine stay on longer?"

Nami looked at him for a few more seconds, clearly decided that she did not have the mental facilities to deal with him right then, and turned away. "There's also the question of how the octopus got cut so cleanly down the center."

"Yes, there is that," Sanji agreed.

"We used a lot of blunt attacks," Usopp said. "I don't know what could have cut it like that."

"Miss Doublefinger?" Nami asked. "Did you do that?"

Paula shook her head. "I thought it was a better idea to piece it with my spikes."

Nami nodded. "I see."

Sanji nodded. "Yes."

They thought about this too.

"STOP!" Luffy wailed, and began to shake Usopp's shoulders. "WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU GUYS? THEY MADE IT BACK! AREN'T YOU HAPPY??"

"Luffy," Nami explained patiently, "it's different for you, since you weren't worried at all. The rest of us spent a week fearing for the worst. To find that all we had to do all along was kill the stupid octopus? Let's just say that _Zoro's debt has been tripled._"

Usopp, who was helping Chopper pull Robin's limp form out of the octopus, automatically shied away the sudden growl in Nami's voice, nearly dropping Robin. "She's right though," he agreed, when it seemed Nami wasn't targeting him after all. "We weren't all as confident as you were."

Sanji stopped at that, Zoro's body still slung carelessly over his shoulder, and exchanged a look of understanding with Luffy.

"Either way, let's just get these two to a comfortable spot," Chopper urged, leading the way below-deck, carrying Robin in his human form.

As Luffy watched, his nakama walked across the deck, not smiling, not rejoicing, hardly daring to believe that the worst was over. Sometimes he really didn't understand his companions; here Zoro and Robin had been returned to them from the depths of the ocean, from the pits of death itself—and for some reason they felt they couldn't afford to give a single cheer?

"But, guys?" he asked of their backs, in a forlorn sort of voice, "What about the meat?"

* * *

It was Nami who came out to find him, some time later. Luffy was sitting on the deck and playing fetch with the tank-dog. "Chopper's taking care of everything," Nami said, propping one fist on her hip. "They both seem okay, but don't you want to see them? I thought you would've been all over them by now." 

"Yeah, I do," said Luffy, "but everyone else is being no fun."

"No fun?" said Nami. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"We finally got Zoro and Robin back, but everyone's just acting like it's no big deal," Luffy whined. "It's a big deal to me. We should be having a huge party. With lots of meat. But you guys aren't laughing or singing or eating meat at all."

Nami sighed. "We just want to make sure they're both okay and—well—_real _first, you know? We don't want to celebrate too soon and then find out it was all just a dream or something."

"Why?" said Luffy. "They're back. That means we should have a huge party. We can always have another one when they wake up, if that's what you're worried about. Sanji can always make more meat."

"No, no, it's not that." Nami muttered something under her breath, then looked upwards, as though for guidance. "How do I explain this? It's like… we don't want to get our hopes up, not before we know that they're going to be all right. It's too much of a risk."

"Zoro and Robin took a pretty big risk diving into that lake," Luffy pointed out petulantly. "Why can't you take one now and believe in them?"

"Luffy," Nami was clearly reaching the end of her patience, "Getting them back like that just… seemed too easy, okay? We're still worried."

"What do you mean, it seemed too easy? Obviously it was easy for you. Zoro and Robin did all the work."

"In case you hadn't noticed," said Nami, "we all attacked that octopus with everything we had, along with six different Officer Agents from Baroque Works. And one dog. All Zoro and Robin did was lie there, unconscious."

"Zoro and Robin were dead," Luffy insisted, "and they came back! That's a lot of work!"

"Navigator-san is right, Captain," said Robin, stepping out onto the deck. "We really couldn't have done it without all of you."

"Robin!" Luffy jumped up, all excitement again. "You're awake! Where's Zoro?"

"Swordsman-san is still asleep." Robin cast her glance about the deck, noting but tactfully not remarking on the sack of potatoes and the three painted rods leaning by them. "Oh, is that my hat?" she added, walking over to the table, unpinning her hat from the back of the chair and placing it on her head.

"Ah, well the guys were, uh, decorating," Nami stammered, suddenly awkward. "Something was missing, so we thought…"

"Thank you for keeping my things ready for me," Robin said simply, offering a grateful smile, and sat down. She picked her book up from the table, opened it to the first page, and began to read.

With an incomprehensible whoop, Luffy threw his hands up into the air and raced for the door.

"What, now you want to see them?" Nami asked.

"Now that Robin's up, they know it's all okay, right? They can be happy, right?" Luffy grinned widely. "I have to tell Sanji to make the meat now!"

He burst into the room eagerly, taking in the situation at once and deciding that the best thing to do would be to push in between Sanji and Chopper and grin down at Zoro's face, sleeping or not. He gave his swordsman a five-second appraisal before turning around with a grin.

"Okay, guys, he looks fine! Let's go eat!"

"Hang on, Luffy," Usopp protested, "Zoro just spent a week inside that octopus! We have to make sure he's all right!"

"He's fine," Luffy insisted, and beamed when Sanji left without a word to go prepare the food. "Thanks, Sanji! Hey, why's he still holding his sword?"

"Do _you _want to try to take it from him?" Usopp muttered darkly, "The Great Captain Usopp-sama is far too young to die."

"Oh. Okay. So Chopper," Luffy appealed to the doctor. "Zoro's fine, right?"

"Well, yes. He doesn't seem to be injured at all, except his wrist—"

"So we can have our party now!" said Luffy. "Let's go, let's go!" He herded Usopp and Chopper out of the room, to general complaint, which he of course ignored. As soon as they were out, he closed the door behind them and turned back to the bed. He checked Zoro over personally, inspecting the wrist Chopper had mentioned, lifting Zoro's shirt to make sure his rubber punch hadn't left any bruises, lifting up each eyelid—though that was mostly because he was curious. Once he was satisfied that Zoro was indeed perfectly fine, he felt his entire rubbery body relax. He let himself slide down to the floor with a long sigh and took off his hat. Holding it with both hands, he stared into it as he started to talk.

"Chopper said I killed you," he confided quietly, with words not meant for anyone's hearing, much less Zoro's. "Before he told me, I did think I killed Robin by letting her get taken away right in front of me. I didn't think about you dying at all. It was just like when you took Usopp to go save Kaya, or whenever you jump in to pull me out of the water. You were just helping me make things right again. It's not like I didn't care. I just can't imagine you dying. That's all I wanted to say."

Luffy nodded finally, satisfied, and stood back up. As he reached the door, he turned. "Oh yeah," he added, putting his hat back on his head. "I'm glad you're alive!"

* * *

"Miss All-Sunday?" 

Robin looked up. "Paula-san," she greeted with a smile. "I was surprised to see you all here."

"And you." Paula adjusted her bandana nervously, as though checking for spikes. "Is it true that the Strawhat pirates accepted you as one of their nakama?"

"Yes," Robin said, with a calm smile. She didn't feel the need to justify their decision, and besides, she was pretty sure she couldn't come up with an explanation if she tried. "And you? How have the rest of you fared?"

"Pretty well," said Paula. "We're thinking of re-opening Spider's Café. Once we get off this ship, of course."

"Of course," Robin murmured.

"I'll let you get back to reading then? We're in the middle of a game," she added, with an oddly hopeful gesture over her shoulder. The former secret agents were, indeed, spread out on the deck, some sitting cross-legged, some sprawled on their stomachs. Their attention focused on a single colorful board. Mr. 5 was rolling a wooden die.

Robin hesitated. She had no desire to participate in a board game, nor did she feel any particular affinity for the members of Baroque Works, not as she did for her present nakama. Nevertheless, Paula was looking at her as though she could evoke the response she desired if she simply concentrated hard enough. Robin remembered that, even as Miss All-Sunday, she had sometimes served as a big sister to the agents below her. Some roles were just inborn, she thought, as she reluctantly asked, "What are you playing?"

Paula seemed encouraged by the question. "It's a board game Miss Goldenweek created with that sniper. It has something to do with rescuing a princess from a giant cat. I was thinking of bringing it to the café—with permission, of course. I thought customers might want to play it while they were waiting."

"I see," said Robin carefully. "Interesting though it sounds, I may have to, ah, decline this round. I appreciate the offer, though."

Several pairs of eyes snapped up from the board game. Mere gazes should not be able to plead, she told herself, realizing that this might be a little more difficult than she anticipated. She held her book up like a shield.

* * *

When Zoro woke, he was still clutching his sword in his right hand, most likely because his left hand felt like it had been stomped on. He sat up with a groan, checked that his other swords were leaning against the bed, and carefully slid his most precious blade into its white sheath. 

With that taken care of, he checked his surroundings. He was back on the Going Merry, which was a relief, and he seemed to remember who he was… as far as he knew, anyway. Picking up his katana, he headed for the door. On the main deck, he came across a bizarre sight. Several Baroque Works agents were crowded around Robin. They didn't look threatening at all, just… slightly glad to see her. It was oddly domestic, and he quickly scanned their ranks for Mr. 1.

So occupied, he didn't notice the sack lying across the floorboards until he accidentally kicked it. He looked down to see what was notably a sack of potatoes with a wide green stripe painted across the middle. Even without close inspection, he could tell that it was meant to be him. His eyes tracked the bag up to the head, where a rather poor likeness had been scrawled—that, at least, was not Usopp's work; he couldn't even tell if that was a cigarette or a tumor on his lip.

In addition to the potatoes, three broomstick handles had been propped up against the wall. The attention to detail, the careful brushstrokes, were all distinctively Usopp. "Wadou Ichimonji," he greeted fondly. "Yubashiri. Sandai Kitetsu." 

"Everyone gets really mad if you touch that," a small voice warned.

"Aren't you Miss Goldenweek?" Zoro asked, turning. "That mustache isn't fooling anyone."

"It's not a disguise," she protested around a rice cracker. "I'm an artist!"

"Oh yeah." Ignoring the pain, Zoro held up his left wrist, on which was inscribed a familiar pink circle. "Did you do this?"

"Yeah, Captain Usopp asked me to," she explained. "Colors Trap - Pink of Healing."

"This is healing me?" Zoro asked, raising an eyebrow. At the moment he wasn't sure if he was in one of those bizarre, alternate-universe dreams again.

Miss Goldenweek nodded, and bit off another piece of her rice cracker. "You shouldn't wash it off."

"I can just imagine what that crap cook's going to have to say about this," Zoro grumbled, but gave a grudgingly muttered, "thanks," as he walked by. He nodded in acknowledgment as he passed Robin. At least the look in her eyes said she knew what he was going through, even though she looked a little busy for the time being. For a moment, Zoro paused, wondering what all these former Baroque Works agents wanted with her. Then he shrugged and continued.

There seemed to be some sort of party going on. He could make out Sanji sleazing up with a female Baroque Works agent he vaguely remembered, and Usopp showing off some invention to Miss Goldenweek, who look suitably impressed. Zoro considered stopping to ask what the celebration was, or at least to grab some food, but with the massive crush of people, Zoro was feeling oddly claustrophobic. He opted for settling down in a secluded corner, wrapping his arms protectively around his katana, and closing his eyes again.

"Swordsman-san?"

Zoro cracked open an eye. Most people didn't dare interrupt while he was sleeping. Robin was holding out a book to him, which he took automatically.

"I find reading more effective than pretending to sleep, because you can watch rather than just listen to the people around you." Two more hands appeared, one bearing a plate of food, one a tankard of rum. "You can also eat at the same time," she added with a smile.

"How'd you know I was faking?" Zoro lifted an eyebrow, though he took the offerings.

"You do put on a convincing act," Robin conceded. "But when I saw you today, it was—how should I put this?—recognition. Your sleeping and my reading both serve the same purpose. I really do enjoy my books, but at the same time, it's also a good opportunity to… observe."

"Yeah? Well, that's a point for you." Zoro grinned like a competitor. "But if I suddenly started reading, that would just blow your cover. Besides, it wouldn't suit my image at all." He handed the book back.

"Well, since you mentioned things that don't suit your image…" Robin looked down pointedly at his wrist. Belatedly, Zoro realized that he'd used his left hand. On the bright side, the bright pink paint had been so effective he'd forgotten he was injured. That was about it.

"Takes a man to wear pink," Zoro mumbled vaguely, looking anywhere but at her smiling face. He couldn't even pull his hand back because she hadn't taken the book yet.

"Of course, Swordsman-san," she said, finally relieving him of his burden. It was unfair that such a neat little smile should look so smug. "Well then, enjoy your nap."

* * *

It was night by the time Luffy stumbled out of the kitchen, followed by his loyal crew. In the moonlight, they could see Robin reading with a lantern, and Zoro slumped against the mast, snoring. 

"Zoro, you shouldn't be up yet!" Chopper cried, rushing forward.

"More like you shouldn't be sleeping again _already_," Sanji growled. "If you're well enough to be walking around you should be fine to do the dishes."

"Zooorrooo," Luffy whined, walking up to the sleeping swordsman and poking him on the forehead, hard.

"Ow," Zoro grumbled, opening his eyes. "That hurt."

"YOU WERE FAKING, STUPID MARIMO? I'll KICK YOU THROUGH THE DECK!"

"Welcome home, Onee-sama," said Nami, putting a hand on the back of Robin's chair and earning one of those quiet smiles.

"It feels like I never left," said Robin, and turned the next page.

* * *

// END

* * *

_End notes: _

_For those who were wondering, I did write the entirety of this story in the past nine days - that is, one chapter per day. It's been a crazy week and a half, and as you can probably tell, I sort of burned out near the end. I posted fully half the chapters at 11:58 PM in order to meet some stupid quota I set for myself. Choppiness, repetition, and general errors abounded as a result - I'm not sure if I should go back and fix them for posterity or leave them as some sort of record._

_Suggestions and general commentary are always appreciated.  
_


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